Basic
by alexb49
Summary: Trained as infantrymen, Sokka and Zuko help each other face trouble in Afghanistan. I am the heart of the fight. A reinterpretation of ATLA events in a modern military AU. Swearing, sexual situations between men, violence. Sokka/Zuko
1. Chapter 1

This is a story based on a great pic by luco millian over on LJ. I do not profess to be an expert on military things. Please excuse any errors.

______________

Sokka figured it was just like the Army to have long lines at the showers when they only got about two minutes each to actually do anything. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. At it wasn't like any of them had any hair to deal with. His medium reg cut still felt odd under his hand. He hadn't had short hair in, well, ever. At least being last in meant he could sneak in a few extra seconds before chow, so he didn't mind.

Zuko finally turned up, uncharacteristically late. He secured the towel a little tighter around his hips and joined the end of the line.

"Man, where have you been?" Sokka asked, teasing gently.

"Couldn't find my razor," The other man looked a little bashful as he took a swipe at the sparse stubble on his chin.

Sokka had almost shat bricks when he found out this pasty white, stand-offish dude was going to be his battle buddy. /This/ was the guy who was supposed to look out for him? Once the guy had warmed up though, it had been great. The camaraderie provided them both some relief since Basic sucked big hairy donkey balls. Their drill sergeant didn't make anything easier since he had decided he hated Sokka's guts from day one. 'You think too much' the cockbag had said. Like it was supposed to be a bad thing. Either way, if he got in trouble again he was probably going to get recycled. He wasn't sure he'd be able to take going through Basic again.

"Attention!" The room fell in automatically at the order from outside the room, looking pretty ridiculous clad only in their standard issue towels.

Eyes forward, you didn't need to be able to look to know something was up. Their DS was on the prowl and he was eager to make a kill.

"One of you boys must think that you're real smart." Zhao padded silently in front of them, a lion toying with its prey. "Contraband!" The glee was obvious as the bastard stuck the offending item in the air in front of them.

Well, fuck.

It was a small chocolate bar. Katara, bless her sweet little ignorant heart, had snuck the offending item into the care package he had just received. Sokka had tried to hide the offending item in his laundry bag, knowing he would be in for a world of hurt if it was found. There had been simply no time to find a better hiding place or wolf it down before they had been sent to the showers.

Sokka didn't dare look anywhere but straight ahead as the massive man loomed over him. He tried not to flinch as Zhao leaned in between the last two privates in line.

"Do you think you're smart, Zuko?" Sokka had taken a breath to holler his answer before it sank in that for once he wasn't the target of ire. What had Zuko done?

"No, Drill Sergeant!" The redness on Zuko's face was the only indication that anything was wrong.

"You'd have been smart if you had tried to find a better hiding place than under your bunk." The ominous whisper that fell from Zhao's lips would have made normal men wet themselves. He prodded Zuko in the face with the candybar, tracing the ridge of scar that no one dared talk about. "If I catch you with contraband again, you're gonna wish you had died in that house fire."

Fucking dirtbag motherfucker.

Zhao straightened to his full height to use his bellow more effectively. "Isn't that right, Private?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!"

"Once you're done here, report to me. Your off-duty ass is mine for the next two weeks." The fucker turned and paused. Almost as if an afterthought, he murmured "No wonder your father thinks you're a disappointment."

Sokka ground his teeth in sympathy. He would have been facing a general court martial if that sadistic son of a bitch had said anything like that to _him_.

Turning on his heel, their DS stood up straight and barked. "Dismissed!" He didn't even wait for their salute before he vanished.

The chatter of the other recruits filled the room. "You took the fall for me." Sokka's mind was officially blown. "Why'd you try to hide it?"

"That son of a bitch is gunning for you all the time. It didn't seem fair for you to get recycled for a fucking piece of candy." Zuko shrugged, finally letting himself scowl at the DS's cheap shots. "At least he didn't punish everyone for it."

That went above and beyond, man. Above and beyond. "I can't believe I'm lucky enough to have you watching my back. I'll pay you back somehow."

The flush that blossomed across Zuko's chest was impressive.


	2. Chapter 2

Sokka couldn't stop his shivering. Wearing every single piece of cold weather gear he owned and he could barely feel his hands. He had seen some tough winters but this. Fucking. Sucked. It was if the Army had specifically picked the coldest day of the year to make them all go out and play one big game of 'capture the flag'.

Thirty six hours with little sleep on top of that wasn't helping. Both he and Zuko wound up being assigned to Red Team which made things a little more palatable. They got dumped into the dropzone at ass-early o'clock in the morning and had to hike in several miles with 60 pounds of pack apiece. Red Team's mission: secure a small area and protect a concrete bunker with some fictional prisoners. The two of them got stuck sitting up in some fake clock tower that had about zero tactical significance for the bunker they were supposed to be defending. Red had way too many men on the ground anyway and it seemed like whoever had come up with the scenario just wanted to make up reasons for guys to freeze their balls off.

The wind was fucking brutal, sucking any heat right out of them in the poorly insulated space. And they had been there for _hours_ with no sign that anything was happening anytime soon. He watched Zuko's head bobble forward and back, like a little kid fighting to stay awake on the car ride back from grandma's house. Sokka wasn't sure but the guy's lips looked a little bluish. If they were heading towards the second phase of hypothermia then they were fucked.

Sokka nudged the sleeper with his foot. Zuko jerked awake, sliding off his pack that had until recently been propping him upright.

"You're lookin' a little rough there, buddy."

Zuko's response came out alarmingly slurred. "It's not like we can do anything about it." The guy was almost right. There would be two kinds of help they could get if they radioed in for assistance now. Jack and shit. But there was another option.

Sokka had been out on enough backcountry trips in crap weather to know the drill. "We can conserve body heat if we kinda huddle together. Maybe we can take a little nap in the process."

The other man's chin sunk into his tactical vest, very much looking like an alarmed turtle. "What? You mean like spooning?"

"Jesus-tapdancing-Christ. Don't worry you can keep your chastity belt on." Sokka only realized that he had his sunglasses on after he rolled his eyes. "We have to keep warm somehow."

The pale man couldn't stop his teeth chattering. "If we get caught we are going to be in deep shit."

"And if we stay like this we're screwed anyway because we're going to be pretty much useless if anything happens."

Zuko took his time considering this. "Okay," he said guardedly. "But only if I get to be the big spoon."

"As long as there's no negligent discharge involved then I accept."

The coughing fit that followed this comment lasted for a good five minutes. Sokka ignored this, setting down one tarp for measly protection from below and dragged the second tarp over for a little protection from above. He entered his little cocoon and patted the space besides him. "Honey! It's time for bed!"

Zuko crawled on all fours and slid in besides the other man. Neither could quite figure out where to put their hands. Sokka gave up and curled into a little ball, letting the other man wrap around him.

It was working. Slowly, but it was working. Feeling began to return to extremities. Sokka could feel the shivering ease in the body next to his. After a while it actually felt warm. Even a little cozy. Man, Zuko really was putting out the BTU's because it sure wasn't _him_ that had any body heat to spare. Now that the threat of freezing to death had been pushed aside, the pull of sleep became irresistible. Sokka knew they should take turns snoozing but it was… just too…

Nice.

The next thing Sokka knew something was up his nose and his head was on fire. He bolted upright and began digging at his face, trying to fan the ammonia burning his airway. Heart racing he could see Zuko in one corner, coughing so hard that he was barfing up the nasty meatball with gravy MRE that had been their dinner. Sokka clutched the broken ampoule of smelling salts that had been shoved up his nostril and glared through his tears at their attacker.

Jeter.

Smug fucker raised a thin, pointy eyebrow. "Shouldn't fall asleep on guard duty, huh?" He activated the radio in his hand. "Blue Team leader. Clock tower has been secured." The bastard let out a little chuckle as he dropped off of the platform like a goddamned monkey and disappeared.

Zuko spat out a mouthful of water from his canteen and wiped his face with the back of one hand. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."

"Killing's too good for him." Sokka distractedly tapped the ampoule against his thigh. "I've got another idea."


	3. Chapter 3

Bouncing on his heels, Sokka was full of questions. "Was that your dad? Did he bring the stuff? I can't believe they let you have a family member visit during basic. Man, who did you have to blow to get permission for _that_?"

Zuko snorted as he fiddled with the neatly wrapped gift the mystery man in the floppy hat had delivered. "That was my uncle, I don't know yet and no blowjobs were involved. My uncle is going to be out of the country for the Christmas Exodus and he wanted to visit before he left." He removed the elegant red ribbon surrounding the package. "He has a little pull. He's a retired O-10."

Sokka almost swallowed his gum. Why the hell was the nephew of a retired general starting out as a lowly E-1? Zuko should have gone straight to officer candidate school. He was damn sure smart enough and with that kind of family connection it would have been a walk in the park compared with the shit storm he would get as an enlisted man.

The pop of tape being broken dragged Sokka's focus back to the box in the other man's hands. They both leaned in close to peer inside. Zuko jammed the lid down as soon as they identified the three small bottles of whiskey inside.

Sokka broke into a wide grin. "Your uncle is fucking _awesome_."

"Yeah, he is." Zuko tapped the top of the package distractedly. "Where are we going to hide this stuff?"

"Hide?" Sokka asked not bothering to hide his incredulity. "We just got the supplies we need for successful completion of our mission!" His smile got even bigger. "It's time to get down to business!"

* * *

"Hey Sneers! How's it hangin'?" Sokka plopped his tray of chow down next to the young private and took a seat.

"Low and to the left, dude, low and to the left." Sneers stuck a forkful of nasty mashed potatoes in his mouth and managed to coherently speak around it. "What's up?"

Hooking one finger, Sokka gestured for the other man to lean in close and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, I know you're splitting a night guard shift with Jenkins tonight and I need to ask you a really big favor." The dubious look that Sneers shot him was not unexpected.

"Well, you know that Public Affairs chick that works in the CO's office?"

"Tylee?" Sneers's bushy brown eyebrows shot into his hairline. "That girl is smokin' hot."

Sokka scooted closer. "Yeah, well I might get a chance to know her a little better if I can meet up with her before wake up call tomorrow. I just need you guys to leave a little more time in between bunk checks." He flashed the small bottle of booze tucked into his hip pocket. "I'm willing to give you a small token of my appreciation.

Greed showed itself plainly when Sneers realized what it was.

Phase One: complete.

* * *

The scowl on Zuko's face said he did not at all approve of Phase Two. "How come you're the one who's pretending to get laid and I'm the one that has to suck up to Jeter?"

"You can't back out now!" Sokka tried to press the second bottle of whiskey into the other man's hand for a third time.

Zuko pulled his hand away and stuck his bottom lip out in a full pout. "You didn't tell me about this part!"

"C'mon!" Sokka tried to plead his case once more. "He _knows_ I think he's a wacko. And he likes you! Kinda. Sorta. Still! It'll be less suspicious if _you're_ the one giving him a peace offering." He put on the big blue eyed puppy dog look that he was proud to say had successfully gotten his sister to do his laundry for him for the past ten years. "The douchebag is totally paranoid twenty four seven! We need him a little buzzed if we're going to be able to pull this off."

Minutes ticked by.

Zuko let out a puff of resignation and took the small bottle that was held out for him. "So who's the third bottle for?"

It would be hard to describe Sokka's smile as anything other than wicked. "That's for our victory celebration."

* * *

The metal bunk creaked loudly as Sokka shifted on his thin mattress, trying to warm the small plastic case in his palm. He counted the passing of seconds, listening for the light snores of the rest of his platoon catching up on what little sleep they could. The barracks usually roared to life at the crack of dawn and it was thankfully still dark out. Sneers had just passed through making sure everyone else snug in their little beds. He gave Sokka a big thumbs up.

It was time.

His blanket muffled any noise as he popped open the small case. He dipped his fingers into the little wells of camo paint and hastily smeared the practiced pattern across his face. There was little light to see what he was doing in the tiny mirror, but time was of the essence. Checking again for bare spots, he seemed satisfied. Sokka gave the mattress in the bunk above his head a nudge through the springs. A hand appeared over the edge, fingers waggling expectantly. He placed the case in it. In no time at all, the mattress shifted and Zuko slipped silently to the floor, face heavily patterned in greens and browns. Sokka rose just as silently to join him.

There was probably forty five minutes until the next bunk check came through. They gave each other a little nod and got moving.

-------------

"Attention!"

The whole platoon scrambled into position, most of them still half finished with that morning's shave as Zhao stormed in. Sokka hustled to his footlocker, stuck just in his pants and socks.

"Gentleman." Zhao paced in front of them, voice dangerously soft and sinister. "Christmas is almost here and some of you were kind enough to leave me a present." Tension was coiling through the air. It felt like getting stuck next to a pit viper. The vein throbbing in Zhao's forehead was ready to blow. He turned simperingly sweet. "Unfortunately my gift had no note to tell me who I should _thank_."

Pausing in front of Zuko, the DS inhaled sharply. Drill sergeants said they could smell fear, but Sokka had always thought that was a joke. "There's just one _tiny_ little thing I'd like to know." Zhao turned beet red and rounded on them all, bellowing "Which one of you _fucking homos_ left me a bare assed Private Jeter duct taped to the flag pole outside my office window this morning?"

There was nothing. Dead quiet.

"So that's how it's going to be?" The tap-tap-tap of Zhao's boots on tile floor was the only sound as he stalked through the line of men, looking for any hint of weakness. Reaching the end, Zhao tugged on the edge of his uniform jacket like he was making sure there were no exposed chinks in his armor. "I'm going to find out who's responsible and make them pay. In the meantime, you little bitches had better be ready for a twenty mile hike after PT." He brushed away an imaginary hair on his shoulder. "Dismissed!"

The platoon exploded in a mix of groans and laughter.

* * *

The wait for a hot shower was killing him. Sokka had resigned himself to the fact that they were going to get smoked hard after the Jeter incident but it didn't mean he was any less tired after the long hike. Zhao had made sure they had missed evening chow and the hunger pangs weren't helping.

Zuko finally showed up, looking a little red in the face. The atypical broad smile on his face was a little concerning. "Hey!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "You look like you need to get rehydrated!" He clumsily pressed his canteen to Sokka's mouth.

The unexpected burn of alcohol hitting the back of his throat made Sokka cough. "You started without me!" he hissed as he caught his breath, a little annoyed, a little amused. Zuko let out a tiny laugh as Sokka dragged him to a back corner for as much privacy as they could get in the nearly empty group showers. Grabbing the canteen, Sokka took a huge swig. The heat in his belly was exactly what he needed.

They didn't have much time left to shower so they passed the whiskey back and forth as they rushed to get clean before lights out.

This new chatty Zuko was hilarious, stream of consciousness pouring out of him as he finished brushing his teeth in the shower. "God, did you see the look on his face? I thought Zhao's head was going to blow! I mean.." He mimed an explosion. "Booom! Today was great! I might not be able to move my legs tomorrow but still! Totally worth it!"

Sokka laughed. "I need to get you drunk more often!"

With a vigorous nod, Zuko stretched up to hit the water spigots. Wet, soapy tile and alcohol induced incoordination were a bad combination. Limbs went everywhere as Zuko battled against gravity on a slick surface.

Not wanting to explain a drunk private's concussion to Zhao, Sokka grabbed for an arm. He didn't realize how hard the whiskey had hit him until he lost his balance as well.

Down they went.

As if they hadn't just been showering right next to each other, Sokka was suddenly bashful over just how much lean, wet, _naked guy_ there was being crushed underneath him. "S...sorry," he stammered, not quite trying to get up.

Zuko looked like he didn't mind at all. In fact, his eyes… Jesus, they were gold and honey and amber and _right there_.

Sokka's eyes fluttered closed when he felt lips touch his. This was _so_ not a girl. Firm, dry, and hints of stubble. He could taste the godawful combination of whiskey and toothpaste.

It felt different. A good kind of different. A nice kind of different. Nice like the –maybe we could do this for a few hours - sort of nice.

But his survival instincts kicked. Sokka looked at his watch. An adrenaline rush brought him to full alertness. "We've got ten minutes to lights out!"

This burst through Zuko's haze in a hurry. They scrambled and got the hell out of there.


	4. Chapter 4

Most of the platoon shuffled into the tiny classroom, still to a man bleary eyed from the long hike in full battle rattle the day before. Sokka hurried to snag a seat for himself and Zuko along the outer edge, eager to give his sore feet as much rest as they could get. This morning's topic was 'how to orient using map and compass' which he already had more than enough experience in. If this was as useful as their other classes, they would probably be spending the next hour discussing the regulation way to fold a map.

A thermostat stuck on 'goddamn hot' and poor ventilation was going to make this a painful experience. He craned his neck around and got a little worried when he saw no Zuko. They had worked out the perfect covert system to keep each other awake which would be sorely needed for this hour long stretch of Pure Boring.

There was a nervous jiggle in his leg that he fought to stop. He still felt like last night's whiskey had left cotton wrapped around his tongue. Zuko had muttered a terse 'good morning' before breakfast chow and disappeared in a swarm of green. Last night _had_ been a little out of the ordinary. All right, a lot out of the ordinary but come on. They were two young guys - friends- being pushed to their physical and mental limits while isolated from anything familiar. After a few weeks in basic they were probably both ready to fuck a porcupine and they had been living in each other's shorts since day one. It was just a kiss, right? No big deal. Not like they were getting naked with each other. He felt his face go red. Getting naked with each other _on purpose_. He flicked the back of his teeth and distractedly thought he could still taste the mix of flavors from the night before.

The guy who was supposed to be handling class today was this ginger haired, lanky limbed staff sergeant ambling to the front of the room. Sokka spotted Zuko sliding into an empty seat a row and a half back, leaving Sokka stranded with no backup. What the hell?

The sergeant clicked his little remote control to reveal the first slide from the overhead projector- an all white background with the words MAP READING in all caps- adding to the list of 'Things that really didn't need to be made into a Powerpoint slide' series that Sokka had been cataloging in his head.

"Gennelmen," the sergeant started in his slow Mississippi drawl. "How tuh reyad uh compass!" He clicked to the next slide that was blank apart from the five words he just said, again in all caps, written out as a translation for those who didn't understand Southern. It did help since most people made the word 'read' one syllable instead of with the liberal amount of extra syllables this guy sprinkled onto his sentences.

This was going to hurt. They were only fifteen minutes in before his eyelids started to get heavy. What Sokka needed was a good firm poke in the side to keep from crashing and burning but his wingman looked like he was doing his best to keep his distance. The little pang of something he didn't want to identify got shoved down deep into his belly.

God how many weeks had it been? Why couldn't they fix the damn thermostat? Sokka tried to find that magic position that would keep him propped up and looking deep in thought rather than passed the hell out. If he could just close his eyes for a few seconds…

The fist pounding into the metal desk in front of him startled him to attention so fast that he barely avoided headbutting Zhao.

"Too many late night escapades, boy?" It was when Zhao spoke softly that he scared Sokka the most.

"No, drill sergeant." Sokka could feel the man snort on him in disbelief.

Right next to his ear. "Front lean and rest. Now."

Crap. Sokka dropped to the floor, assumed the just-starting-a-pushup position and held it, board straight between the bridge of arms and toes.

"You little fucks all need a lesson in helping out a fellow soldier," Zhao rumbled ominously to the platoon. "You want some dickhead who fell asleep in land navigation to guide you into a mission? If this pansy ass son of a bitch can't keep it up 'till the end of class, then all of you are going to have some fun in the latrines today. "

The low sonorous tone of the instructing staff sergeant resumed as if nothing had happened. "Make shuah you make ahjustments fo declination."

The sweat was already dripping off of Sokka's face. He had lost all track of time with his little nap. How much longer could it be? If it was under twenty minutes he might be able to make it. He felt Zhao's booted foot plant itself firmly below his neck, adding a not-insignificant amount of weight to his shoulders. He breathed out slowly to steady himself, not looking forward to playing in poop.

* * *

The metal frame protested mightily when Sokka threw himself onto his bed, grateful for the brief respite. He hoped Zuko would turn up soon. They needed to talk. There's no way the guy could avoid coming back to his footlocker.

Talking in the showers proved to be an impossibility since it had been ridiculously crowded. The whole platoon took lots of the time to boil themselves, the only way to remove the horrendous odor of human waste that penetrated every pore.

Sokka looked at his watch and slumped in resignation. Zhao had made him switch guard shifts to tonight to make sure he understood how egregious his infraction had been and he needed to get to his station on time or wind up in deep shit. For the third time today. The possibility of catching up on sleep was looking grim.

Head hanging low, Zuko finally returned. Sokka swung his legs to the floor and sat up wearily. "Hey," he started softly. "I got screwed into doing CQ duty tonight but I have to ask. What's going on? Don't disappear on me." He licked his lips, trying to figure out a way to say what he wanted to say. "I need you, man. You're my buddy."

Those crazy-intense eyes went wide in shock, like Zuko had been expecting something, _anything_ else.

The tinny little alarm on Sokka's cheapo watch went off. "Damn it. Now I _really_ have to go." Sokka kept looking back at the other man as he gathered his things. "Talk? Soon?"

He could feel Zuko's stare boring holes into his back as he hauled ass for desk duty.

------------------

Propping his head up with his hands, Zuko lay on his bunkmate's bed, ruminating on the man's parting words. If Sokka was on CQ, he wasn't going to be back anytime soon. It was next to impossible to think though, with the huge racket going on next to his head.

It was only a couple more minutes before lights out and the clowns from his platoon _still_ had a bunch of their mattresses piled on top of one another in the center aisle. The rest of the guys lined the aisle like spectators, hooting and hollering taunts, goading Jenkins to 'man up' as he stood nervously waiting in front of the mattress pyramid. Zuko watched Jeter let out a loud whoop of a cry from the opposite end of the room then sprint down the aisle as fast as he could, straight up tackling Jenkins into the impromptu safety cushions. There was a burst of awe and laughter from the other guys at the hard hit. They had all taken turns nailing each other for the past half an hour. Idle hands and all that.

Jeter helped Jenkins, only a little worse for wear, to his feet. "Nice work guys!" Jeter said with a broad grin. "We have to do this again tomorrow night. " Amazing how the other guys followed his lead without hesitation. In no time flat, the mattresses were back in their bunks, bed sheets tucked into tight corners in a hurry.

Lights out. You could still hear the scramble of feet as people rushed to their beds in the semi-darkness.

The relative quiet finally let Zuko clear his head. Why was he such a colossal fuck up? Once he had burned off the whiskey last night, he had been certain he had been a total moron, slipping in a moment of weakness, possibly screwing up the only bit of luck he had in this fucking place.

He and Sokka had been very lucky when they had been assigned as buddies. They had hit it off right away which was rare for such a pair of opposites and rarer still for himself in general.

Sokka's response had caught him off guard. Most guys would have flipped out if their guy friend had planted one on them in the shower. Zuko had stayed up all night running through possible consequences in his head. Sokka could have woken him up with a fist to the face, demanded a transfer, gone running to tell their CO about the queer boy who touched him. The last thing he would have expected was the sadness. It had been almost forlorn. _/Don't disappear on me/_

The situation appealed to his dark sense of humor. His father had forced Zuko to enlist to ostensibly toughen up his son, to beat the mama's boy out of him before Ozai would let his son be seen standing by his side in front of the family's private military company. And look what happened.

The need for sleep began to dull his thoughts. Feeling entitled to be a little lazy, he jammed Sokka's pillow under his head. He let the distinct smell of the pillow's real owner wrap around him as he drifted away.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep when he felt the blanket getting thrown over him, pinning him underneath. He struggled but it was like fighting the inside of a giant wooly condom.

"Time for a little party." He was pretty sure it was Jeter's voice he was hearing but there was nothing visible through the blanket. "You fucked up today. " Zuko kept silent and struggled harder, trying to get a grip on the blanket to at least see his attackers. The blanket held him so tightly to the mattress he had no room to even kick out properly. A punch caught him under the ribs, unseen and but not completely unexpected.

"Sokka's your battle buddy," Jeter continued softly. "It was _your_ responsibility to watch out for _him_ at all times, brother. And you _failed_. We all wound up spending the day up to our necks in shit for it. This isn't just some petty nonsense. What happens when we're deployed? How can we trust you with our lives if you can't handle the easy stuff?"

'We'? 'We' was not sounding good at all. Either Jet was batshit crazy or this was going to hurt. A lot. With a start he realized that these were not two mutually exclusive things.

"Let's just call this a little warning. Or we'll make sure you won't be around to let us down again."

What Zuko sometimes lacked in common sense he more than made up for in self-preservation. He curled up into a ball to shield his head as blows began to rain down from many hands.

* * *

Sokka's ass was dragging pretty badly as he stumbled back to his bunk. Still no sun to be seen but he didn't need much light to know exactly where his bed was. His gear got carelessly jammed into his foot locker and he didn't bother undressing as he flopped down into bed. That he didn't scream like a little girl when he landed on a warm body in a space that was supposed to be unoccupied was something that he would look back on later with pride. Pride that he would never, ever in his life share with anyone else, but pride none the less.

Too exhausted to rise, Sokka rolled off the invader, yanking down the blanket shielding whatever ballsy fucker was in his bed. "Zuko!" He kept his voice to a low hiss of surprise, not wanting to wake the rest of the barracks.

It took a moment for Zuko to respond, wincing slightly as he tried to shift in place to let them meet face to face. Sokka forced the man to keep his back turned so he could examine a fresh bruise on a section of pale skin that had been exposed where shirt had come undone.

"What is that?" Sokka couldn't stop himself from talking louder. "What happened? I _know_ you aren't dumb enough to play that stupid tackling game." Sokka refused to be shushed, getting angry as he watched Zuko breathe in abortive little gasps.

"It was nothing I didn't deserve."

This made Sokka even angrier. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Zuko let out a slow breath with effort. "I got a little… out of control yesterday. I thought you'd be pissed about it." It felt a little easier to handle it like this, in the dark, close but not. "And I added on to the stupidity by letting you down today. Jeter and his little cadre gave me a beat down to remind me of my duty." He jerked violently as Sokka pulled the loose shirt higher, revealing more bruises.

"Idiot," Sokka muttered, not sure himself who he was talking about. He felt Zuko shiver under his hands as they ran over ribs, checking for fractures. "That didn't hurt did it?"

"N…no." There was a pause. "It didn't hurt."

"Good." Satisfied nothing was broken, Sokka smoothed the shirt back into place. He inched closer to whisper into Zuko's ear, making sure the words stayed close between them. "Believe me. You'll be the first to know when you've pissed me off. Now try not to move and get some sleep." Sokka rolled out of his bunk and started to wearily climb to the higher mattress, frame creaking all the way. "We'll take care of Jeter tomorrow."

______________

The next day was wonderfully uneventful. This made the showers at the end of the day a pleasure rather than an escape.

Sokka took his time, watching Jeter finish his shower out of the corner of his eye. Glancing at the clock on the wall, it looked like now would be fine for setting things in motion. He stuck his head under the spout one last time and spun the tap to shut everything down. Settling his runty regulation towel around his hips he tried to look casual as he wandered up to the man toweling himself off.

"Hey, Jeter. Could I talk to you for a sec?"

Jeter regarding him dubiously. "I gotta be ready for CQ duty in about 5 minutes so keep it short, yeah?"

Sokka nodded. "This won't take long. Just wanted to say that while I understand and appreciate the thought behind the discipline you handed out last night, let's just say that I'm less than pleased with your methods."

With a scathingly opinionated eyebrow, Jeter padded closer to Sokka, completely nonplussed by his lack of clothing. "You got something to say? Come out and say it."

This brought a devilish smile to Sokka's lips. "Fine. You fuck with Zuko, you're fucking with me. Got it?"

"That's it?" Jeter let out a brief snort. "That's all you got?"

"Ooo, wait. One more thing." Sokka stroked his chin thoughtfully then snapped his fingers in decision. "Mustard!"

Jeter sneered at him, trying to mask his confusion.

Zuko appeared at Sokka's shoulder, casually tossing him a massive container of mustard while he held onto his own gallon bottle of ketchup. Together they flipped their respective containers and blasted Jeter with a flood of yellow and red goo.

The two adjourned to the locker rooms, leaving Jeter a sticky, sputtering mess.

"Good luck trying to get to the duty desk on time, you cock," Zuko muttered to the air.

"That went well." Sokka was almost humming in pleasure as he finished drying himself off. "Nice job on smuggling that stuff out of the mess hall, by the way. How'd you do it?"

Zuko shook his head and smiled a real smile. "You don't want to know."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: This is NOT 'A Very Special ATLA Christmas". Oh, and hey, you know what's awesome? Reviews. Feedback whether you think this is good or bad helps me. Much thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.

* * *

Bloodshot eyes pored over the face in the mirror. Sokka knew he was looking pretty pale for a brown kid. The lack of color made the the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more. Basic wasn't supposed to be a walk in the park but… damn. He waved his straight razor with a flashy little flutter to get at that final bit of shaving cream under his nose.

"I don't know how you can use that ancient thing," Zuko teased gently as he briskly ran his disposable razor along the line of his throat.

"You're just jealous!" Sokka caressed the smooth ivory handle. "My dad gave this to me. It's been in my family for generations. I couldn't _not _use it. Besides…" He brandished his blade with a pretty flourish. "It makes me feel like a total badass."

They had gotten their morning routine down to a precise science. Making it on time for chow was critical for maximum calorie consumption.

"I can't wait! A whole week off for Christmas." Sokka tried to contain the bounce in his step as they navigated the hallway to breakfast. "This is my favorite time of year. Presents, food and family! That's all you need, really." Zuko offered up a bemused smile at the infectious enthusiasm.

"Oh c'mon!" Sokka elbowed the much less excited man in the ribs. "You can't tell me you're not happy to get out of here at least for a little while!"

Zuko ducked his head and shrugged. "I'm stuck here for Christmas Exodus. I don't have anywhere to go."

Sokka froze in mid stride, jaw hanging. "You can't be serious! This place will be a ghost town!"

With a sigh, Zuko held up a hand and counted down on his fingers. "My uncle's overseas. Sister's at university and usually just stays with her friends. Father's god knows where, probably getting ready to close on some huge deal." His mouth turned into a grim line. "It's been a long time since we celebrated anything as a family."

"That settles it then. You're coming to my house!" Zuko staggered forward as Sokka furiously pounded on his back. "No way am I letting you get stuck all alone behind a desk for the holidays! I'll call 'em tonight to give 'em a heads up." He resumed walking with at a brisk pace, not bothering to check if Zuko was following. "This is gonna be a blast!"

--------

Katara stood on tiptoes, straining to see any signs of her brother through the sea of green. There were a rainbow of skin tones among the young soldiers but they still all looked almost identical. She was proud that she had been trusted to make the hours long drive to the training facility on her own and it vaguely annoyed her that she had worked hard to be on time, only get stuck waiting an extra few hours. The men were already an hour overdue when the grumpy sergeant with great big side burns made the platoon do a ton of pushups out on the parade grounds before letting any of them leave.

Two weary figures carrying massive duffel bags were making a beeline to her car. She broke into a huge grin when she recognized Sokka but remembered the warnings: No huggy kissy stuff in front of Sergeant Side Burns.

And then there was the other guy. Her brother's friend was cute in a dorky kind of way. His short spiky hair multiplied the dork factor a fair bit. Katara wondered what the story was behind the scar but there was no way in hell she would be impolite enough to just ask.

Sokka hurried through introductions as he levered the station wagon's hatch open and flipped both bags inside. "Let's get out of here."

Katara arched an eyebrow in surprise when her brother slid into the seat behind her, letting Zuko sit up front. Sokka pretty much never gave up riding shotgun.

Katara navigated around the long line of cars waiting for their loved ones, happy to finally be on the move. Her brother wasn't content to remain in back for the trip, jamming his torso in between the front seats to smooch her on the cheek.

"Dad still stuck in DC?" Sokka asked somberly.

Katara nodded with a hint of sadness. She flinched slightly as her brother fingered the little plait of hair that hung by her ear curiously. "What's going on over here?" he asked, flicking at it like a buzzing fly.

With aim that came from much practice, Katara nailed him hard in the chest with an elbow without taking her eyes off the road. "It's something new I'm trying out." She hesitated, knowing her next words would prompt some sort of comment. "Haru likes them."

"Haru!" Sokka used the disapproving tone most brothers saved for sisters' new boyfriends. "Isn't that the one who looks like a chick?"

"I am never going to do your laundry ever again." The involuntary flush on her cheeks annoyed her. She needed to go for her standard technique of getting her brother off of topics she didn't wish to discuss. "Do you want to grab something to eat?"

"Absolutely!" Sokka rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Anywhere is good. And if we can hit the mall for a little bit I'll be happy."

Katara rolled her eyes and made herself focus on her driving. "You are such a girl." She let out a squawk of indignation when she felt a retaliatory saliva-soaked finger poke her in the ear.

Her brother's friend pretended to be intent on the passing scenery as he tried to hide his laughter.

-------------------

"Welcome home!" The old woman shuffled to her grandson and lovingly touched his cheek. "Oh! You're as thin as a rail!" Gran gran patted him reassuringly on the arm. "We'll have to fatten you up while you're here."

Sokka shot Zuko a blazing smile over the top of her silver-grey head.

"And you!" Zuko startled as the elder turned her piercing gaze on him. "So pale and scrawny! Do they not feed you boys over there?" She shooed both of them into the living room. "I have some stew that will be ready to serve in another hour or two. Go unwind. Don't get into too much trouble."

"So what would you like to do first? You're the guest, so you get to pick." Throwing himself onto the worn fabric sofa, Sokka took up the entire length with a huge sprawl. "We can do inside stuff or go sledding. There's a great hill a little ways from here."

Zuko perched himself on the sofa's armrest. "I've never been sledding before."

"What?" Sokka contorted in disbelief to face him. "This is an outrage! Where'd you grow up?"

"Sort of all over the place. Overseas mostly. I had a bunch of skiing lessons once but never really got much chance to just play in the snow."

"Well, we are going to have to remedy that situation!" Bolting upright, Sokka sprang to the hallway closet and began rummaging furiously for supplies.

* * *

When Sokka had said 'hill', he hadn't been kidding. There was a huge expanse of pristine snow ringed by trees that rolled in waves in some places and precipitous down hills in others. Not a house in sight.

They had dropped Katara off at one of the higher spots. She made a great silhouette against the untouched blanket of white as she made her way along one of her favorite trails, snowboard strapped to her back.

"Aren't you worried about her taking off on her own?" Zuko asked in wonder as he unloaded a sled from the car.

"Nah! She can handle herself. She's really good at riding the backcountry." Sokka flipped the plastic sleds and pulled out a rusty can of furniture polish. "She has some sick moves on a half-pipe, too." He applied a liberal layer of polish to the sleds' undersides. "Gets you a little more speed," he explained apologetically as Zuko coughed at the cloud of lemon scented vapor that drifted his away.

Satisfied with his work, Sokka took a running start and flung himself headfirst down the hill on his beat up hunk of plastic. Zuko marveled as the man-child disappeared into a cloud of white, floundering to a stop at the bottom of his run. "It's perfect!" The snow covered man pumped his mittens into the air. "Your turn!"

The sled left for him had clearly been abused to within an inch of its life. With more than a little trepidation, Zuko placed the battered thing on the ground and carefully sat down. Paddling to gain some momentum, he gripped the edges tightly once gravity took over. The speed was exhilarating. Everything blurred past as he picked up speed, cold making his eyes tear up.

"Watch out for trees! Bail! Bail!" Sokka's warning made him peel out, sending him tumbling into a snow drift. He swam out of the soft powder, feeling like the eyelashes on his good side were frozen shut. Zuko sputtered as a Sokka's mittened hand helped brush the snow from his face.

"That was a great first run!" Sokka was positively exultant. "But you have _got_ to work on your steering."

Zuko looked highly skeptical. "You're supposed to steer these things?"

Sokka shook his head in disappointment. "There is so much for you to learn."

After a few more trips down the hill, they packed powder to build a jump ramp. It had taken a few test runs and more than a few new bruises to get it just right. Once they each made a successful run with the added jump, Sokka declared that Zuko was ready.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" He watched Sokka dig through the rear of the station wagon.

"No! Trust me! It'll be great!"

Prouder than Zuko had ever seen him, Sokka yanked a long polished something out of the hatch. It looked like a highly polished length of wood, almost like a surf board. "This was my dad's old windsurfing board. It's fast as hell. Once I got to do some modifications of course." Placing the board at the top of the run, Sokka hopped aboard. "C'mon! We can both fit on here." Zuko took a seat.

Sokka began kicking to get them moving. "Make sure you hold on!" From what Zuko could see there were no handholds of any kind. With a sense of foreboding, Zuko latched on to Sokka's waist as they lurched forward.

Wind tore at them as they zipped down the hill. The board was a thing of beauty, near frictionless as it made its way down the hill. Faster and faster they went.

"Prepare for liftoff!" Sokka hollered at the top of his lungs. Zuko could only squeeze tighter. They hit the ramp at full speed, sending them flying through the air. Their hoots of delight echoed through the narrow valley. The half second of weightlessness at the top of their arc seemed to stretch out into a terrifying and spectacular forever. The exhilarating moment ended with a spine jarring thump as they came back down to earth. With nothing to grab on to, the boys parted ways with the board, the landing sending them both tumbling as the board completed its journey to the bottom of the hill alone.

Sokka let out a howl of glee as he began shaking off the snow that cushioned his fall. "See! What did I tell you?" His chuckling died away when he heard no response. On alert, he scanned the blinding white hillside. Zuko lay spread-eagled in the snow, unmoving.

Slowed down, sinking though the loose powder, Sokka flailed wildly as he struggled to get to the downed man. He dropped to his knees once he got there, little bells of alarm ringing in his ears when he saw the supine figure had his eyes closed. "Talk to me!"

The slow smile that spread across Zuko's face sent his heart racing. "Damn, that was awesome."

"Asshole!" Sokka punched Zuko in the shoulder. Relieved laughter bubbled from his chest. "I thought you were hurt!"

"This 'playing in the snow' business _is_ pretty fun." Zuko was trying very hard to look super casual as he hid something with his hand.

Sokka let out a little squeak, cold-freezing burn on bare skin from a fistful of snow that got shoved up the front of his jacket. "So! I welcome you into my home and this is how you repay me?" They wrestled for control of the second snowball that magically appeared in Zuko's hand.

Managing to pin the other man's arms to his sides, Sokka straddled him with a maniacal laugh. "You shall rue the day you betrayed me!" The cheeks flushed with exertion and secret little smile on Zuko's face sent a jolt of heat straight from Sokka's belly right into his groin. "You hardly ever get to use the word 'rue' in conversation." His words trailed off into nothing, his tongue continuing to babble well after his brain started to shut down.

God, those eyes. Those eyes were fucking criminal. How did this guy not have the world at his feet with eyes like that? The body under him held very, very still, amber/gold/everything eyes a mix of hope and fear and _goddamn_ heat-heat-_hot_.

No booze to blame it on this time.

He really wanted to know what his friend tasted like without the whiskey.

It was tentative at first, with a fair bit of fumbling as they tried to figure out how their faces fit together with all their winter gear. Then it just kind of sorted itself out.

Zuko was near frantic, trying to yield to _and_ explore every part of the mouth kissing him all at the same time, like he was worried it would disappear at any second. Sokka held back, trying to memorize every detail. Sweet and slow, they took their time and it was several minutes before they had to come up for air. They stayed close, not wanting to end the moment, eyes closed, simply breathing each other in.

"Are you guys hurt or something? Do you need help?" Katara's note of alarm pierced the fog surrounding them.

Sokka rolled over onto his back, hoping for the cold to chill the feverish storm that blasted into in his head. No regrets, none at all but… The freedom to do this was only temporary. They were going to have to return to duty. And that meant the future just got a whole lot more complicated.

"We're fine!" he called out. "Everything's fine."

Dear God he hoped he was right.


	6. Chapter 6

The scene was a wasteland. Abandoned cars and random bits of trash littered the landscape as far as the eye could see. From the sounds in the distance the enemy was near and there was a metric ass load of 'em. Sokka used the brief respite to reload his semi-automatic and checked in with his teammate with a sideways glance. "It's about to get ugly. You ready?"

Zuko kept his focus straight ahead, a flash of tongue barely visible as it flicked out to wet his lips. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Gritting his teeth, Sokka kicked open the door. "Here goes nothing!"

Guns blazing, they blasted their way through overwhelming numbers. They pressed relentlessly onward, amazingly gaining ground. When one of them was about to fall to overwhelming numbers, the other was there to help, bodies falling before them.

A way-too-close explosion blasted Sokka with shrapnel. "Shit! I'm getting hammered here. You got any first aid kits left?"

At first he thought Zuko didn't hear him, too intent on swinging his machete like mad but when he saw the much needed boost get tossed his way Sokka grinned with relief. "That's the last of what I have so you'd better be more careful," his savior said, not evening pausing as he continued to slash away. "I'll be pissed if you get yourself killed."

Katara's voice filtered through the screams and explosions. "Do you guys want to get going anytime soon?"

"In a minute!" Sokka called out automatically, refusing to take his eyes from the action on the tv screen.

"You said that half an hour ago!" Katara poked her head into the living room, more than a little irritated. "Don't you guys use guns enough in real life to _not _want to play 'shoot-em ups' the rest of the time?"

"This is different!" Sokka answered without looking, voice full of indignation. "We're trying to deal with a zombie apocalypse here!" He let out a grumble. "Damnit, woman! Look what you made me do!" He watched in annoyance as his game character was flayed to death by the witch he accidentally startled, creepy violins screeching over the television's speakers.

"_You _asked _me _to sneak you into the track at school!" His sister stomped away, fed up with waiting. "Why did I even buy you this stupid game?"

"Because you love me!" he hollered at her retreating back.

"Whatever!" The slam of Katara's bedroom door shook the whole house.

Giving up on escaping the zombie horde, Zuko wound up the cord on his controller and set it carefully on top of the game console. "We should probably get going before we get her even more upset."

"Jeez!" Sokka frowned in disappointment. "Are you sure you're older than your sister? 'Cause torturing your younger sibling is kind of a legal requirement or you have to turn in your Brother card."

Zuko took the proffered controller from Sokka's hand and stared at it for a while. "My sister and I don't exactly get along."

The note of sadness might have been subtle to some but rang out loud and clear to Sokka's ears. "C'mon," he said cheerily, hoping to change the mood. "We should go do that track workout or we're going to be in a world of hurt when we get back on post."

They gathered their things to ward off the impending fury of Hurricane Katara.

* * *

Adjusting his pillow, Zuko stared at the ceiling once more, feeling every minute of the hour as it ticked away. He couldn't believe how fast the week had gone. There was almost no time left in this great little respite and duty called.

This family's generosity of spirit had been amazing, putting his own familial dysfunction into stark relief. Gran Gran was determined to get Zuko at least ten pounds heavier before he left. He had felt like a complete ass the first night when Katara showed him to Sokka's old room. It got worse when he saw Sokka take the couch in the living room but they all seemed to find his protests confusing. This was how this family treated its guests and that was that.

Resigning himself to another sleepless night, Zuko reached for the tiny lamp on the nightstand. Light spilled across the patchwork of action and sci-fi movie posters covering the walls. He tucked a hand behind his head to peruse the shelves around his head, piled high with battered textbooks and repair manuals. A warm burst of affection filled his chest as he took it all in, feeling honored to be trusted with this piece of a younger Sokka's life.

The first night of sleeplessness Zuko had tried to fire up the massive old beast of a PC with its hulking great big monitor that took up an acre of desk space. Sokka had warned him the creaky thing wasn't useful beyond checking email but that was all he intended on using it for. Reaching for various power switches he unseated a tattered book on cartography from its perch on the tower, sending a slip of something fluttering to the floor.

It was an old photograph, creased and worn at the edges. The colors were faded but the bright blue eyes of a much younger pair of siblings still came through. The children hung from broad shoulders of a ruggedly handsome man that was more than happy to be used as a jungle gym. A serene, beautiful woman looked on from her perch on the same couch that sat in the living room, face filled with love.

The snapshot held joy so open, so natural, so _foreign_ to Zuko that he had quickly replaced everything and refused to go near the desk again, feeling like a peeping tom. There was no way he could deprive Sokka of any time with his family just to deal with Zuko's fumbling attempts at romance.

That kiss. It still burned him to think of it. So much passion in such a little thing.

Sokka was the last thing he expected to find at basic. It was like being inches from a bright bundle of energy and Zuko couldn't help but be drawn to it.

The harsh realities of their situation weighed heavily on his mind but there was one tiny, little problem. He had been given a glimpse, just a taste, of something he wanted. Wanted more than anything. And for that he would press on even in the face of the most impossible of odds.

Little wonder he couldn't sleep. Perhaps a small snack was in order.

Lights turned off, he eased the door open and mentally reviewed the path to the kitchen. No need to wake the rest of the house. He trailed his hand along the wall to navigate. Bathroom door then small closet on the right, left at the hallway.

His focus was fully on counting his steps when he turned into the hallway, at least that's what he told himself after he failed to notice the warm body approaching him before it plowed into him at full speed.

There was a hiss of "Shit!" and the lights came on without warning. Sokka looked totally crestfallen at the sight of remains of his sandwich strewn across the floor.

Zuko dropped to his haunches to gather the debris. "Damnit! I'm sorry!"

"No, no! My fault! I shouldn't have been stomping around in the dark." Sokka kneeled to finish the task. "C'mon. We can resupply pretty easily."

They attacked the tiny kitchen, layering slices of meat into a massive tower, sandwiches piled so high that normal humans would have had to unhinge their jaws to get a bite. Satisfied with their giant creations they retreated to the living room to devour them.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" With the edge off of his hunger, something as simple as eating was not going to stop Sokka from striking up a conversation.

Zuko shook his head to the negative and tried to look very interested in the shape of the coffee table.

"Me neither. It's been getting worse throughout the week. A little antsy about going back, I suppose." The slight frown that crossed the man's face was brief but still noticeable. "And I've been thinking about the other thing."

That sent Zuko's heart racing. "Other thing?" he parroted dumbly.

Sokka looked at him askance. "Yeah. You know. Me. You. This… thing." Wolfing down the last bite, he leaned back, looking serious. "You mean a lot to me. I want you to know that no matter what happens." Unconsciously he rubbed at the short hair on the back of his neck. "The military's official policy on gayness is pretty fucked up but I'm pretty sure they don't want _anybody_ getting laid in the barracks." His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "That doesn't seem to stop Jeter from getting more ass than a toilet seat from the ladies who work the chow line, though."

Shielding his face with his napkin, Zuko had to cough violently after the comment made him inhale a piece of crust.

Too intent on his train of thought, Sokka continued unaware of Zuko's distress. "Anyway, I'm willing to give this a shot if you are. It'll be tough. I mean, it's not like we'll be able to hold hands and put flowers in each other's hair or anything. I totally understand if you want to keep things simple and friendly instead." His face went red, suddenly bashful. "And you would still want me as a friend, right?"

Zuko smiled. "What about more than just friends?"

Hesitant, Sokka looked up. "It's going to be a huge gamble."

With a deep breath, Zuko let the words flow out of him. "I'm willing to risk it."

"Good." There was a pause after the simple reply. "There's one more thing."

The large meal must have slowed his brain down more than he thought because Sokka was somehow a whole lot closer all of a sudden. Blue eyes filled his field of vision, making it difficult for Zuko to breathe. "Whuh.. what's that?" he stuttered, too dazed to think straight.

"You've got a little something. Right there." Zuko couldn't stop the sigh that escaped when a finger traced his bottom lip. "Here. Let me help you."

A hand pressed him- insistent but gentle- back against the couch's armrest. Sokka chased after with his tongue, lapping at a tiny stain of mustard at the corner of Zuko's mouth.

It felt good. The weight of the lean body wrapping around him pleased Zuko to no end. Finally getting to hold the wiry, too-skinny frame, letting his hands wander over every bit of Sokka he could reach as they kissed in earnest, hot and wet, teasing and slow.

Sokka broke off the kiss and smiled against the other man's ear. "I think I got it." He sounded drowsy, almost drunk.

Slumping bonelessly under the other man's weight, Zuko felt _relaxed_ for the first time in ages. He managed to mumble a response. "Yeah, I think you did."

Within minutes, they were fast asleep.

-------------

A/N:

Thanks so much to those who commented after the last chapter. It is greatly appreciated.

Sorry if this seems like a dull chapter. It does have bearing on future events, I swear. I believe having them jump back into training would have seemed way too disjointed as well.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Some descriptions of violence in this chapter. Lots of swearing. Feedback is welcomed. Thanks so much to everyone who's responded. This is heading into slightly darker territory so it would be particularly appreciated here.

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The wind was brutal out on the firing range since there was not a single damn thing to shield anyone from it. The numbing cold combined with the little whirlwinds of dirt right when you didn't need it was a swift-kick-in-the-nuts reminder that Christmas break was fucking over.

Sokka carefully brushed away the soil that had settled on his extra magazine and fit the shaped ellipse of metal into his rifle with a push and a slap. It had been a long morning since _everyone_ had to go through their rifle qualification and they were just about done. Crawling on his belly until he reached the sandbags, he settled the butt of his M16A2 against his shoulder and tweaked the positioning of its rear sight. He glanced to his right and gave a small thumbs up to a similarly sprawled out Jenkins a few yards away, who answered with a slight nod of the head.

That Jenkins kid totally looked like the rawest of the raw. Tallish, lanky as hell and stuck with those birth control glasses that the Army made everyone wear in basic, he would have disappeared in any crowd of recruits. The guy rarely spoke but seemed nice enough. Sokka was a little surprised the kid hung out with Jeter's crowd but a lot of the quiet ones seemed to flock to the showy bastard like moths to a flame.

Big voice boomed out over the loud speaker. "Commence firing!"

Gunfire in real life sounded so different than it did in the movies but you got used to it real quick. One. Two. Little pop up targets came and went in the hills and snow covered brush, some close, some far. Fourteen. Shit, missed that. He tried not to lose count in his head, knowing that the last thing he wanted to do was fail his qualification. Not even score Marksman? Not in front of their weapons instructor, anyway. That guy was cool as hell and there was no way Sokka wanted to disappoint.

"Cease fire!"

They assembled back at the way station for their scores, freezing cold in the empty shell of a building making them huddle together like penguins. Zuko was one of the last to file into the building but still wound up edging his way the crowd to reach Sokka, getting his attention with a gentle nudge of boot. "How'd you think you did out there today?"

Sokka stamped his feet, hoping to feel his toes again soon. "Not too bad, I think. How 'bout you?"

Hands clasped to his mouth, Zuko blew a long blast of air to warm them. "Probably did okay," was the muffled reply.

"And you?" Sokka asked of Jenkins, elbowing him in the side. The lanky man simply shrugged.

"Gentlemen." There was none of Zhao's boom and bluster in Piandao's voice. There didn't need to be. His softly spoken word quieted the platoon in a heartbeat. "You all scored Sharpshooter or better. Excellent work out there today." Eager smiles spread over young faces at the simple praise.

The imposing man still looked serene as he studied his students. "Several of you reached Expert." He searched the crowd, eyes narrowing as he spotted his target. "Jeter."

Jeter's little cadre whooped it up and- ooh, shocker- the kid had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, flicking the little toothpick that he wasn't supposed to have between his teeth.

"Zuko." Sokka punched his friend in the shoulder as Zuko's show of impassivity but there was a little glint in his eye that told the truth of the matter.

"Sokka." Blinking in surprise, Sokka barely felt Zuko jostling him. He looked up at Piandao who gave him a small nod of confirmation. The grin that caused threatened to nearly split Sokka's face.

Clearing his throat to quiet the rowdy men once more, Piandao captured their attention easily. "While I'm proud of all the soldiers in this platoon, you should know that one of you managed a perfect score, something I rarely see." He held up one of the 300 meter targets, showing a tight cluster of bullet holes in the tiniest of squares. "Congratulations Jenkins. Particularly impressive at this long of a distance. You're a hell of a shot, kid."

A ferocious roar of approval echoed through the metal rafters. Jenkins hid a small smile by pressing his impossibly thick glasses to the bridge of his nose with a finger as the men around him pounded him mercilessly on the back.

____________

Exhausted. Desperately lonely but never alone.

That pretty much summed up how Sokka felt the entire week since they had been back. It was harder than he thought it would be, their whole… thing. There was simply no time where he and Zuko could have some private time- zero, zilch, none. There had been one bright spot where it looked like they would be handling guard duty together but Zhao unexpectedly changed their schedule around, quashing that little bit of good news.

So that left him with sitting next to Zuko during chow- close but not too close- and trying to keep his eyes from going where they wanted to go when they were in the showers.

Awesome.

They had started combatives training which was fun as hell. Sokka much preferred the pugil sticks rather than this hand to hand stuff, though. It just felt wrong to not have a weapon in your hand. He could tell the basic stuff they taught the platoon was just beginner nonsense. Crap that you could use to subdue a drunk loud mouth in a bar fight and that was about it. Maybe that was the whole point.

The best in class got to enter the all around tournament for the entire base. Everyone wanted to be the one to go, since it was probably their only chance to ever punch a superior in the face without getting a dishonorable discharge. Sokka couldn't quite decide if he was surprised that it wound up being Zuko. Holy shit, this dude had moves. It was pretty to watch, the shaolin whatever the fuck it was. There wasn't anyone who could come close to him. Maybe Jeter, but that guy was just all street and no discipline. Zuko bided his time, waited for the guy to get impatient then dropped the guy on his ass and the decision was made.

* * *

Tournament day had been a long one of quick fights with Zuko advancing easily to the final round. The arena was hot and stuffy, stands filled with rowdy soldiers eager to see someone get a beat down.

Sokka looked up at the bracket board and almost spat on the arena floor. "You have got to be shitting me!" he hissed angrily, taking Zuko's water bottle from his hands. "How the fuck is Zhao in the welterweight finals? He's got like forty pounds on you at least! "

"Doesn't matter." Zuko was grim as he flexed his fingers, cinching the Velcro tab on his grappling glove tighter around his wrist. "It'll be fine." The look on Sokka's face told him how much he thought it was _not_ fine, but he dropped out of the ring anyway.

What _was_ Zhao's deal? Did he want to get his jollies by humiliating some private he hated in front of the entire base? Or was it because this was the only way for Zhao to get a chance to rough Zuko up? The army didn't take kindly to superiors beating the shit out of underlings anymore. Zhao strutted into the ring like he owned it.

The ref called the two men together and bullshitted through the standard rules. Sokka marveled at the size difference between the two fighters. Wearing just boxing trunks and gloves, you could see there wasn't an inch of fat on either of them, but with Zhao- there was just a whole lot more… Zhao.

A little bell dinged and it began.

Zuko circled the ring, light on his feet. He wasn't sure what to expect, but whatever it was he knew it was going to be bad. After a few testing jabs, Zhao closed in, surprisingly fast for a man his size. He moved like a wrestler at first, luring Zuko in, heads pressed together in disturbing parody of intimacy.

"I know you, boy. You're _weak_." Zhao's voice was all soft and menace, making sure the ref wouldn't hear. A meaty fist landed on Zuko's ribs, driving the air out of him, once, twice and again before Zhao danced away. Damn, the son of a bitch hit fast and hit hard.

Zuko tried to initiate this time, hoping to spot an opening. Surprisingly, Zhao let him inside, allowing Zuko to get in several swift punches before the old man caught him around the neck. Warning bells went off in his head.

"Your father made a mistake. You shouldn't be here." Zhao delivered a hammer of a head butt, sending Zuko to his knees, ears ringing. The ref blasted his stupid little whistle and pulled Zhao away, giving the bastard an official warning for the illegal strike.

Struggling to his feet, Zuko saw Sokka pacing the perimeter of the ring, face twisted in anger, ready to climb the ropes. With a curt shake of the head, he turned back to his opponent, signaling to the ref that he was good to continue.

They shuffled back and forth again, Zuko keeping his distance. That wasn't going to continue for long.

The huge man lashed out with a heel kick which Zuko caught easily. Zhao grabbed him by the wrist and reeled Zuko in for another taunt. "This is war! Good men will _die_ because you and your little boyfriend think this is some kind of _game_. I won't let that happen."

This time Zuko was ready. He brought up his knee, driving it low under Zhao's sternum, sending his opponent staggering back.

Spectators went nuts. The cat calls and cheers only incensed Zhao further. Using the back of his glove to wipe away the sweat on his brow, Zuko forced himself to tune them out. No distractions. The man in the ring with him wanted blood.

Zhao put his shoulder down and charged him. There was nowhere to go so Zuko had to let it happen. No way to block the arms going around his waist and he felt himself get lifted in the air. He wrapped his legs around the big man to bring him down with him as the Zhao body slammed Zuko into the ground. Jesus, _fuck_, breathe! No way was he going to beat the bigger man grappling on the ground, pound for pound. He knew that, knew it well but… shit! He had the flexibility if he could just... gogoplata.

His inner thigh screamed at him as he strained to get his leg around Zhao's arm. _Yes!_ With his shin locked under Zhao's chin, Zuko grabbed the crazed man's head and pulled down _hard_ . It must have hurt, he _knew_ it hurt, shin bone crushing your throat, no oxygen, but the stubborn fuck wouldn't tap out. The ref was way too close, in their faces as he blew his little whistle once Zhao's eyes rolled a little as his consciousness wavered.

It was over.

Pandemonium. The crowd was stomping and hooting, eager to see one of their own take out a superior particularly one they despised. Zuko let Sokka untangle his legs from Zhao's gasping form, dragging him bodily to his corner of the ring. He watched Zhao stagger to his feet, barely acknowledging the ref speaking to him.

A fresh blossom of pain startled him. Sokka murmured his apologies as he examined the bruises on Zuko's face.

There was a shout and a crack and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The arena went deathly quiet.

The two men looked up to see Zhao watching them right back. He casually used his foot to nudge the referee cradling his broken wrist out of the way. With a roar of fury, he came at them, planting hard to deliver a high crescent kick with all of his considerable strength behind it.

No time to think.

Zuko shoved Sokka down and twisted into a low spinning sweep, taking Zhao's leg out from under him.

MP's stormed the ring and there was no more time for anything at all.

----------------

This waiting was terrible. Sokka tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, watching the army doc finish giving Zuko the once over. The guys from the CID weren't so patient, peppering Zuko with questions in the arena locker room.

Did Zuko have any idea why Zhao made him a target? There was evidence the man had specifically altered the weigh-in record to make sure that he was assigned to Zuko's weight class. Were there any other attacks prior to this? Any threats? There had been other trainees who reported previous… incidents but none quite as _visible_ as this one. Zhao was officially relieved of duty pending an investigation, probably facing court martial.

Good riddance.

Investigating officers, gone. Doctor, gone, leaving orders that Zuko should spend the next 24 hours on quarters.

Finally. Alone.

Except Zuko was a mess. Still in bare feet and boxers, he looked even more drained after the interrogation than after the fight with a psychopath. "Can we go back to the barracks, please?" His voice was lost, forlorn.

Hands balled tightly into fists, Sokka struggled to keep the anger from his voice. "No." Zuko looked up at him sharply. "Not yet."

Gathering up the battered man, he forced them both to move. Sokka kicked open the door to the custodial closet, carelessly shoving mop buckets out of the way. Once both men were stuffed inside, Sokka wedged the door shut with a stopper and turned, finally bringing them face to face.

"I just..." His mind was gridlocked, too many things struggling to go in too many directions. He was too used to girls and not so used to this guy thing and God, the overwhelming tang of sweat he breathed in was most definitely _male_. But there was a person standing in front of him that he most definitely needed to comfort even if he definitely had no fucking clue on how to do it.

His hands came up and hesitated, unsure of where he could touch without pain. "I can't…" It tore at him, this inability to do _anything_ but knowing he had to do _something_. With a growl of frustration, he squatted down, industrial shelving stocked with giant bottles of bleach digging into his back.

Slowly, carefully, he lipped at the bruised line of the last rib. "I thought he was going to kill you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He pulled at Zuko's left wrist and tongued the broad handprint that had formed there. Sokka heard a hitch in breath so he paused, his eyes flicking up in concern.

Even in the dim lighting, those crazy gold honey eyes were fever bright. "_Don't_... don't stop."

With a chaste kiss to the palm he still held in his hand Sokka moved on. He cradled the elbow that hung loosely by Zuko's side and mouthed a spot of purple on the bicep. "That crazy fuck doesn't get to do this, doesn't get to mark you like this." Continuing to rise, he found a defined fingerprint at the base of scalp and mouthed it hotly, sucking at it to change its shape. Strong fingers dug into his back in encouragement.

Sokka pursed his lips and blew cool air over the knot at Zuko's temple. "I want you to remember this instead." He brushed his lips over the too hot mouth that hung slightly parted, waiting for him. He took his time exploring, gently licking at the small cut he found in one corner.

The loud clatter of a broom handle falling to the floor made them both jump. Simply holding on to one another, they listened for any signs that someone might have heard, or worse, come investigate the commotion.

There was only the sound of their own haggard breaths. How long had they been in here?

They needed to be more careful.

"C'mon." Sokka took Zuko by the hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

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I'd appreciate it if you let me know what you thought. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N. No real violence but if descriptions of blood spilling makes you ill, do not continue. Feedback is always appreciated. Sorry if this seems less meaty but there's things that need to be set up. Graduation will be coming up soon. I do plan on continuing with a story following their deployment. Please let me know what you think.

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Sokka gently ran a fingertip over the crook of Zuko's forearm. His tongue flicked out to wet lips that were suddenly dry as bone. "I don't think I can do this."

"Don't say that." Zuko leaned in close to whisper, "You know you can. Just take a deep breath and go for it."

That might have given him enough confidence to proceed if Sokka wasn't overwhelmed by his own pulse pounding against his ear drums.

A voice next to him punched through the sound of his heartbeat. "Just do it already, you pussy!"

"Shut the fuck up, Jeter!" Sokka snapped automatically. Almost a force of habit, really.

The bastard chuckled nastily. It was a little gratifying that it was immediately followed by a little yip of pain as Jenkins stabbed Jeter in the arm on his attempt to place an IV catheter. "Goddamnit, Longshot. Take it easy!"

Jenkins rolled his eyes at this, grabbing for tape with one hand while fiddling with the hanging bag of saline that was waiting to be hooked up with the other.

The chill in the room didn't stop sweat from trickling down the small of Sokka's back. Why the hell was this such a big deal? His father had taken him hunting as soon as he could walk. He'd personally field dressed more tasty snacks than he could count. Blood-whether his own or someone else's- was not something that usually bothered him.

This was just one more aspect of their training. Infantry wasn't just about shooting shit with a big fucking gun, though that was the kickass part for sure. If there was a small chance that some ham fisted grunt could save another soldier's life in the field by dropping a line in some hemorrhaging kid, then by God they would learn how to do it.

Maybe it was _who_ they had to practice on. Sokka was fairly confident he'd have no problem watching Jeter bleed.

It didn't help his confidence that Zuko had blasted through his attempt in about five minutes, whipping through the catheter placement on Sokka like a damned nurse.

"Jesus, fuck that's cold!" Jeter squirmed in his seat as Jenkins thumbed the roller clamp on the drip set wide open, sending more of the chilly fluid coursing into Jeter's forearm.

His 'patient' used his knee to gently nudge Sokka in the thigh, bringing him back to reality. "I'll be fine." Those crazy gold-amber eyes were turbulent, hard and soft at the same time. "I've been through this loads of times."

Loads of times? Sokka felt his stomach do a little flip flop. That scar. The scar that nobody talked about. Must have been in and out of a hospital for weeks with that thing. Months before it had to stop hurting.

Jeter was right. Zuko was fine with it. Stop being such a pussy.

His latex glove was a no barrier to the warmth of taut muscle radiating underneath his hand as Sokka delayed some more. Zuko was so damn ripped that his cephalic vein popped up like a giant blue-green pipeline.

"Do it." The whisper was so quiet he though he imagined it at first. He looked up to see Zuko give the tiniest of nods. With a deep breath, Sokka slid the catheter in place. His satisfaction at the successful flashback of blood on removing the catheter's stylet turned into horror as the blood continued flow unfettered, splashes of dark red against a familiar expanse of creamy white skin making him a little weak in the knees. He fumbled for the IV line and screwed it on tight, halting the expanding mess.

"Don't worry. I got plenty more where that came from," Zuko said with a faint smile. "You did great."

One giant disgusting wad of gauze later and it was all a bad memory.

-------------

The platoon had breezed through the end of Blue phase of their training with no problems. Jee, Zhao's replacement was efficient at his job and a ton more personable but a bear with its foot caught in a trap was more personable than Zhao.

Starting Black phase was a relief, meaning more advanced infantry training and with it more privileges. Like possibly getting to the PX to finally buy some chocolate. Sokka was seriously jonesing for some sweets worse than the guys who had been forced to quit smoking.

Things suddenly felt a whole lot more real once they were issued their real body armor, not any of the fake crap they gave them early on. These tactical vests were bulky and heavy as hell though Jee told them the old styles were a hundred times worse.

And what would a bunch of bored young men given body armor do when they had nothing to occupy their time in the evenings? If you guessed they would suit up and try to drop kick each other in the chest after a cry of "Plate check!" as the only warning, you'd be right. After about a half hour of this, they abandoned the pretense of wearing armor all together and simply began wrestling each other to the ground as violently as possible.

There was no getting away from the rowdy bunch. Sokka curled himself up on his bunk to shield the borrowed cell phone from noise as he dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Hello?"

He had to swallow hard before he could answer. "Hey, Dad. It's me."

"Sokka!" The simply joy in his father's voice made his heart sing. "I've missed you son."

"I missed you too." There was a question that couldn't wait to get out of Sokka's mouth. "Listen. I can't stay on the phone too long. Do you think you'd be able to come down for graduation in a couple of weeks?"

The wait for an answer was seconds but seemed like hours.

"Of _course_ I can. I would never miss the chance to see my son turn blue."

Sokka blazed a megawatt smile into the phone cradled to his ear. "Great." There was no one else he wanted placing the light blue infantry aiguillette over his shoulder. "Greater than great! I can't…"

A thick-set body interrupted everything, landing hard across Sokka's legs, nearly sending the precious phone flying. Sneers levered his bulky frame off of the man pinned underneath him. "Sorry dude!" With a big exhale, Sneers dove back into the fray, using moves that could only have been learned from watching professional wrestling on television.

Sokka returned to his phone call in annoyance. "Sorry about that. Things are a little wacky here right now."

It was good to hear his father's deep laugh, even from the tiny speaker. "I totally understand. It's been a while but your old man can still remember what it was like going through basic. I'll let you go." There was a pause. "See you soon."

"Can't wait." Holding the phone to his chest, Sokka closed his eyes for a moment before flipping it closed. Flipping onto his back, he used both feet to jiggle the bunk above his head just about where the impression of a body suggested an ass might be located.

The vaguely disgruntled look Zuko gave him as he popped his head over the side let Sokka know his aim was on target. He passed the cell phone up to the inverted man with a soft "Thanks."

The entire bunk shook mightily when Sneers managed to get bucked off the pile of silliness yet again.

It was mildly amusing to see Zuko shake his head in disgust while he was hanging upside down. "Clowns."

A wicked smile spread across Sokka's face as he abruptly sat up. "Do ya wanna show 'em how it's done?"

Zuko grasped the bars and easily pulled himself into a forward roll, landing quietly on his feet. "Absolutely."

The two let out a war cry as they entered the fray.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry if the previous chapter seemed odd, it will make sense in the grand scheme of things (I hope.) Sections lifted from the Infantrymen's Creed. My apologies for any factual errors.

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It was an unseasonably beautiful day out on the parade grounds, as if even the sun was eager to share in the day's events. Families and loved ones assembled on the bleachers, waves of anticipation for the pomp and circumstance to begin.

Hakoda smiled, watching his daughter shield her eyes as she half rose from the stands to try and distinguish her brother from all the other nearly identical men in their ASU's standing in formation.

"Don't worry." He gently nudged Katara on the back of her hand. "We'll see him soon enough."

Things hadn't changed that much since he had gone through basic. Nicer uniforms, sweeter weapons. But the people?

The faces may be different among the soldiers and their families. Pride. Love. That stayed the same.

The big voice over the loudspeaker began the ceremony by introducing the drill sergeants to the crowd.

"What happened to the guy with the side burns?" Katara murmured more to herself than anything as she applauded politely. "Choi or something?"

Hakoda's smile evaporated. The brief mention in _Stars and Stripes_ had caught his eye over coffee one morning. Not too much detail: the disgraced Zhao's arrest, the Article 32 investigation with vague mentions of trainee abuses. Quick call to Bato who was still active with a friend of a friend in the JAG corps hadn't dug up much more. Very hush-hush which meant some nasty shit had gone down.

He hoped none of it involved his son or there wouldn't be a hole deep enough for the son of a bitch to hide in once Hakoda went looking for him.

"There he is!" Katara's excitement pushed the darkness clouding his thoughts. The graduates were demonstrating the skills they had been hammered into them in basic. Sokka and a pale Asian kid with something weird going on with his face started a quick combatives demo.

He felt his mother lean into his shoulder with an indulgent smile. "So handsome," she said, patting his knee. "Just like his father."

Sokka was no slouch in the grappling department. Moving base to base growing up never made it easy for a kid to fit in. And after Kya had been killed… Well. No sense bringing up bad memories at a time like this.

The Asian kid (correction: man. These guys were men no matter how fresh faced they looked.) dropped Sokka and pinned him easily.

"Ooh!" Katara's eyes lit up as she clapped in earnest this time. "He has _got_ to teach me that move!" She stuck her fingers in her mouth and blasted out a piercing whistle of approval.

Damn! When… where the hell did she learn how to do _that_?

A squat, balding older man a few rows down stood up to hoot loudly as well, drawing amused eyes away from his daughter that unbeknownst to him had somewhere along the way been taught to whistle like a longshoreman.

There were lots of gunfire and explosions, an awful lot of Iron Maiden and much cheering until the demonstration was done.

"C'mon." Hakoda gathered up his family. "We should go get something to eat before the Turning Blue ceremony."

----------------

This was it. Fourteen weeks of no sleep, busting your ass and getting your ass busted. They were finally done with it. Now the army would let them put their big boy pants on and do something that actually mattered.

Cursing at his reflection in the mirror, Sokka struggled with his tie as it completely failed to come out right on his fourth attempt. It didn't help that they only had twenty minutes to get ready for the afternoon after lunch.

The color of their dress uniforms did appeal to him as much as the idea of wearing a tie did _not_. These new blues suited him much better than the old green Class-A's. Though the pants-tucked-into-the-boots look was a big fashion 'don't' no matter what color it came in. The army would look a lot more stylin' if he ran the place.

"Need a hand?"

The voice over his shoulder brought a smile to Sokka's face. He turned on his heel to face his friend and almost swallowed his own tongue. "Sure.. I, uh… yeah."

There was one word for how Zuko looked: striking. Okay, a few more words. Pressed and perfect, high shine jump boots and all. Zuko looked every part a soldier.

Lungs weren't working so well right now. Sokka craned his neck to give warm hands at his throat more room to work and sternly reminded himself to breath. A little furrow of concentration popped up on the bridge of Zuko's aquiline nose that distracted Sokka no end. It wasn't until Zuko looked up at him expectantly that he realized that something had been said.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Zuko pursed his lips indulgently. "Any thoughts on what I mentioned last week?" Long fingers finally managed to undo the crappy knot that was as hard to untie as it was to tie in the first place.

Sokka cleared his throat, turning his head in some vain hope that it would cover the flush to his cheeks. It wasn't often he was embarrassed. "I'm sorry, man. It's a great idea to go do something fun before we have to report to our first assignment but I think a trip somewhere is not gonna happen."

Seeing Zuko's face fall made him feel like a complete tool. He reached out on instinct; restraining himself to just running his hands down the lapel of the other man's coat. "I want to go!" True regret. Sokka dropped to a soft whisper. "With my dad in DC so much, my paychecks got to go help cover bills. I don't think I have that kind of cash."

It was a surprise to see those gold-honey eyes light up. A nice surprise. "Money?" Zuko snorted. "If it's just money, don't worry. I got it. "

"Really?" Sokka's voice cracked for the first time in a very long time. "I mean, I don't want to just take advantage of you like that."

"You're not taking advantage. Think of it as a thank-you gift." Zuko continued fussing way more than necessary with the tie, trying not to make eye contact. "I wouldn't have made it through all this without you." He put the finishing touches on the four-in-hand knot and smoothed the line of tie down Sokka's chest.

Sokka caught himself leaning into this simple act, feeling it send a pulse of heat running right through him. This trip. Something fun after three plus months of being worked like a dog. Time alone with no need to look over their shoulders.

The only moment of real freedom they might get before they got shipped out.

The idea rocked Sokka onto his heels. "You're awesome."

The corner of Zuko's mouth twitched. "I know." He handed Sokka his coat. "C'mon. Can't be late."

* * *

Speech. Another speech. Holy crap, yet another speech. Katara had deflated to clapping half heartedly as her enthusiasm waned. She was proud of her brother, but… Damn. This was getting pretty boring. At least things were getting blown up during the mornings' demonstration.

Finally the families were allowed out onto the parade grounds, soldiers waiting for their loved ones.

Sokka managed to find them first, sneaking an arm around both sister and grandmother to hug his greeting. Hakoda watched and waited, thumbing the length of the intricately knotted light blue cord in his hand.

"Your mother would be so proud," Gran Gran murmured brokenly as her tears fell. Katara swallowed against the big lump that appeared in her throat.

It took a minute for them to collect themselves.

Now was the time. Sokka turned to his father. Hakoda affixed the cord around his son's right shoulder, Katara snapping pictures all the while. Once finished, her father was pleasantly surprised by his son's crisp salute. He returned it with a broad smile.

Katara tried to get her family to hold still for a second for a decent group shot but Sokka was not paying attention. He was watching that Zuko kid from Christmas break receive his own blue cord from the old hooting man in the bleachers. The old man clicked his heels together and saluted the younger man. The younger man looked a bit startled, but turned serious before delivering a salute of his own.

"Hold on a sec!" Sokka declared as he pushed through a swarm of people.

Almost arm in arm, Sokka returned with his friend, the stout old man obligingly in tow. "Dad! I'd like you to meet Zuko! Zuko, Dad!" The two men respectfully sized each other up and shook hands firmly.

The stocky old man moved in close to Gran Gran, tugging on the cuffs of his elegantly tailored suit. "Let me be so bold as to introduce myself. I am Iroh. You must be the lovely woman who took in my poor neglected nephew this Christmas." A little color came to her grandmother's cheeks as he gallantly kissed the back of her hand. "Please accept my deepest thanks."

"It was no trouble at all. Such a delightful young man you have there." Katara grew a little disturbed as her grandmother inched closer to Zuko's uncle. "It looks like it runs in the family."

Oh, boy.

Iroh raised a suave eyebrow in Gran Gran's direction. "My nephew won this post's combatives tournament, you know."

"Uncle. " Zuko tried to get the man's attention but wasn't getting a response. "Uncle!" The older man finally looked up and politely excused himself, moving in so they could all get a picture together.

A few more snaps and the families were herded back into the bleachers.

The men got back into formation. A soldier stepped forward to start the creed. They all echoed back their responses as one.

I am the heart of the fight

wherever, whenever.

Katara looked over all the young faces, trying not to think how a lot of them were no older than she was.

I am swift, determined, and courageous,

armed with a fierce will to win.

What did the future hold for them? According to Sokka some more training and then they were almost certainly going to be deployed. Probably Afghanistan. The conflict had gone on for so long with no real end in sight, they were all fairly certain he would end up there.

I am always there, now and forever

I am the Infantry

Follow me!

She clapped like mad this time, Zuko's uncle joining in with a loud whistle of his own.

The air was thick with emotion. Pride, yes, but with the yearning that their loved ones would all stay safe remained unspoken.

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Second A/N This is the end of basic training. There will be one or two chapters as an interlude, then on to deployment. The story of deployment will by necessity be darker in tone. I don't know why this story has eaten my brain but it has. Updates may come frequently if this cold keeps me away from work anymore than it already has. I'll be happy to keep sharing if people are enjoying it.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N #1- There is a much smuttier version at my livejournal account. 700 words smuttier. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

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Their beat up regulation duffel bags stood out among the Louis Vuitton and Prada luggage waiting to be picked up in the tiny little airport. Sokka snagged them both and dropped one at Zuko's feet, the Carribbean heat making him glad that he took the time to change into shorts and a t shirt. "This looks like one swanky little island."

Flipping through pages of itinerary, Zuko used his free hand to perch his sunglasses on the top of his head. "Yeah. It's a little posh," he said a little apologetically. "My uncle set this whole thing up. We used to come here all the time but I haven't been here…" Oh, wow. It's been a while. "Since I was ten." He had to shake himself to clear his thoughts. With a puzzled frown he glanced at the paper in his hand. "I sort of know where this hotel is. We can ask for directions when we pick up the rental."

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Traffic was batshit insane. Both the tiny little cars and the tiny little roads were just nuts. The views were spectacular but no guard rails combined with steep cliff faces meant that a distracted driver might suddenly be a whole lot closer to the view than they had anticipated.

"How much farther?" Sokka yelled over the wind, taking the open top Jeep into a shallow ditch to allow an oncoming car to pass.

Zuko scanned the flimsy map the rental agent had given them. "Maybe another klick or two." It was hard to trust a map with a cartoon dolphin on it.

The vehicle's little radio was struggling valiantly to be heard over the wind blowing through the Jeep's open top. Sokka sat bolt upright and repeatedly mashed the volume button on the dash violently. "Aww, yeah! This song is _awesome_!" He began bopping up and down in his seat, singing along with the tune now blasting over the speakers. It would have been fine if he actually used the same key as the singer, which he most certainly was _not_.

Bemused, Zuko watched the animated driver bounce from one butt cheek to the other in time with the base that was pumping so loud it shook the entire vehicle's frame. "What are you doing?"

"What, you've never car danced before?" Sokka went straight back into his atonal singalong. "Your turn to drive! Take the whe-e-eel!" he sang, releasing the steering wheel so he could catch the slipstream of air rushing past his head.

Grabbing control of the car with a cry of "No!", Zuko made the Jeep veer wildly for a second as he struggled to compensate for his perspective from the passenger's seat. "I don't dance," he said, note of panic raising his voice an octave.

All dancing and- thankfully- singing stopped. Sokka turned his whole body to face his passenger, foot still firmly on the accelerator. "No way! We need to remedy this! We'll go dancing tonight.'

"Fine! Fine!" Zuko's panic kept his eyes locked straight ahead as he did his best to navigate the windy, narrow road with no control over the vehicle's speed. "We'll go dancing! Just drive normal, you crazy bastard!"

"Yes!" With a slap to the steering column, Sokka finally deigned to take control of the Jeep once more. "We should drive as a team more often."

With an exasperated laugh, Zuko just shook his head.

----------------

"Ho. Lee. Shit!"

The valet seemed totally nonplussed by this exclamation and watched Sokka gawping at the exquisitely decorated lobby entrance. Plucking the keys from Sokka's limp hand, Zuko handed them to the man who had waited so patiently for them. The Jeep was gone in a heartbeat. Sokka simply continued to turn in a slow circle, mouth hanging open.

A porter ambled up to grab their bags. Zuko waved him off and wandered to the front desk, bag slung to his back. "I'd like to check in."

The middle aged woman at the desk looked vaguely alarmed even through her artificial smile. "You?" she asked, scrutinizing their buzz cuts and nappy clothes with skepticism. "Have a reservation? Here?"

Zuko arched his lone eyebrow ominously over the sunglasses obscuring his face. "Yes." He gritted his teeth. "I do." Digging in the back pocket of his worn khakis, he slapped down a jet black piece of plastic trimmed in gold lettering. It slid easily across cool marble as he pushed it forward with a single finger.

It would have been funny, if it wasn't so pathetic. Nostrils flared open and eyes went wide when she recognized the name on the credit card. "I am suh-suh-so sorry, sir! Please accept my deepest apologies!" Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she frantically tried to get her computer to work faster. "We'll have you in your suite right away!"

"Is there a problem?" Sokka joined them, propping his elbow on the front desk.

Zuko tilted his head and offered his friend a small smile. "No. No problem at all."

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The suite was more like a cottage really, a wall of exotic greenery shielding it from the eyes of their closest neighbor. They hadn't even been in the place more than sixty seconds before Sokka squealed like a teenage girl.

"It has its own private pool! This place is insane!" Toeing off his flip flops, Sokka flung open the large screen doors to the terrace and hit the tiled patio at a run. With a huge jump, he curled himself up into a cannonball, hitting the water fully clothed. Water went everywhere.

Zuko let the other man splash about so he could size up their new home for the week. Sliding back the partition to the massive bedroom revealed a lone queen sized bed with pillows piled high. His heart suddenly turned heavy when he realized that the expansive space was larger than the living room Sokka had slept in over Christmas. He sank, taking a seat on the sumptuous bed.

This was simply a level of opulence that he had grown to expect as a child. None of this was out of the ordinary for him. It never really occurred to him to consider what other people might think. How it would make them feel.

Until now.

Real people didn't live like this. Insanely expensive villas bigger than some people's homes. Exotic island locales where the staff cringed in terror at the thought of offending the prodigal son of one of the world's richest families. _This_ was not normal. Who _does_ this? No one would believe that a person would spend thousands of dollars on somebody else without batting an eyelash if they weren't expecting to get something out of it.

Sokka padded back inside, leaving behind a trail of soggy footprints. He froze in the middle of stripping his sodden shirt, catching the tension in Zuko's face. "What's wrong?"

How to explain? Hey. My family has more money than God but please don't feel like I brought you here to be my whore.

For fuck's sake. When did the voice in his head decide to sound so much like Sokka?

"This whole thing. I'm sorry. It's a bit much." Words slipped from Zuko's grasp, like trying to catch a fish in a creek barehanded. "I told him. My uncle. How important you are. To me." He spoke carefully. "He went a little overboard. He probably wants to make sure we enjoy this." Why couldn't he be more eloquent? "I don't want you to think that you owe me… anything."

Zuko found himself bowled over, back pressed flat against the mattress. Water dripped onto his face as a tongue pressed at his lips, demanding to be let inside. It was several minutes before Sokka let him come up for air, the chill of damp clothing taking away any risk of overheating.

"What you're gonna get is what I want to give you." Sokka nipped at the earlobe on his good side. "Fuck this place. Let's go hit the beach."

___________

It didn't take long to rent a couple of boards and hit the surf in the bay. Even though the waves weren't that great, it was worth it just to sit out there, bobbing like corks as they watched the last bit of sun disappear into the ocean.

Paddling in to shore, Zuko looked over his shoulder at the man moving alongside him. "Dinner?"

"Hell yeah." Sokka's grin was electric. "And dancing."

Zuko dug his chin into his board to shield a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Didn't forget."

Dinner was a speedy affair, the habit of inhaling all food presented to them in the shortest amount of time still ingrained in their bones. The wait staff couldn't bring dishes out fast enough. Bellies full, they took their time exploring the main drag, narrow streets filled with cars zipping around like angry bees.

Sokka honed in on a place with a thumping techno beat, drawn to the flashes of light and color from inside painting the street. Head bobbing, he bounded the steps two at a time, Zuko following at a more leisurely pace.

This was _the_ spot. Wall to wall people. It was filled with fit, tan young bodies, what little clothes they wore was haute couture from head to toe. Old money sat in the dark back corners, enjoying the view as they took dainty sips of their trendy wine. Sokka pointed out a boozy pop star giving his table mate a particularly raunchy lap dance.

The dance floor was packed, the haze of cigarette smoke causing the strobe lights to cast a blanket of reds and blues over the crowd. It wasn't at all surprising that Sokka elbowed through it to clear space, dragging Zuko along behind. Zuko watched, enjoying the sight of Sokka sensually writhe to the music. One minute passed and another before Sokka suddenly halted his tribal dance, his toe tapping in irritation.

Getting pulled in close, Zuko felt hands at the small of his back bring their hips together, guiding him into a gentle sway. All the months of _tastes_ and _can't have_ and _wanting_ washed over him. Zuko let himself melt, molding himself to the shape of the body pressed against him.

Sokka took the lead, moving them together. Fingers dug into taut muscles as their hands explored one another. They were surrounded by people but it _didn't_ _matter_.

All other senses were blown by the smoke and the music and the lights. Zuko let himself simply _feel_ it. Nothing mattered but this. Right here. Right now.

The driving beat felt like sex on the dance floor. Songs flowed from one to another, making it easy to lose track of time.

The hands of a sloppy drunken girl not-so-subtly trying to play a game of grab-ass with them both broke through their reverie.

Zuko looked up, panting hard in the hot, smoky air. He let out a whimper only he could hear at the look of need on the other man's face.

Sokka wrapped a possessive hand around Zuko's wrist. "We're leaving. Now."

-***

They made it back to their suite somehow. It was a mistake for Zuko to drive. Sokka's restless hands were a huge distraction, nearly sending them over the cliff on more than one occasion. Staggering into the cottage, their mouths zeroed in on each other, tongues dueling for who would taste the other first.

Letting his lips break off, Sokka took a lick just under the other man's adam's apple before his head snapped back in disgust. "Gah! You taste like an ashtray!" He shoved Zuko in the direction of the bathroom.

The shower was something from a hedonist's dreams. Shower heads from every angle, curve of beautiful Roman tile lined the back wall, surrounded by a wall of glass.

Perfect.

There were a billion knobs and handles to twirl so Sokka opened them all, hoping the water would heat quickly. Disrobing with speed and efficiency was one skill the army taught them that the higher ups probably never anticipated would be used in such a manner, but it was appreciated here.

They stepped under the gentle cascade of water together, letting the steam curl around them. For a moment all they did was just look as rivulets washed away the day's sweat and grime. This was it. Freedom that they could only dream about for weeks and weeks and weeks. And now they had it.

"You sure? The movement of Zuko's kiss-bruised lips as he spoke mesmerized him. That rough and tumble voice was impossibly harsh. "If we do this, there's no going back."

"I've been sure." Sokka pressed Zuko back against the cold, cold tile. "For a long time."

A/N #2: For those who are curious, I based the hotel on Hotel le Toiny in St Barths. No, I have never been there. If you have been, you're a lucky bastard.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Do you need a warning for character death if the character dies on the show? If so then consider this your warning.

I had warned earlier that this story would have some more serious elements after basic training. This is a sad chapter. Not dark. Just sad. Some mentions of violence. Please let me know what you think.

---------------

Campbell Barracks, Heidelburg, Germany January 1999

* * *

The tidy little row of houses was a carbon copy of military housing on every base on the planet. Bato seemed to randomly pick a driveway and pulled his beat up Saab into it, flipping the key and enjoying the sudden silence. "After this past week, sleeping in my own bed is going to feel _amazing_!"

Hakoda bumped his head against his head rest as he tried to stretch out his legs in the tiny car. "Tell me about it. These Coalition training missions are terrible. They need to figure out their chain of command or Serbia is going to be one big cluster fuck." He puffed out his cheeks and twisted towards the back seat to retrieve his duffel bag. "Why don't you come on in for a sec? The kids would love to see you. And I have some of that pilsner you like so much."

At first Bato looked stern, but he couldn't mask his smile for long. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

The two soldiers crawled out of the Saab and laughed at each other as they groaned in stereo at their various aches and pain.

Arching his spine, Bato was rewarded as his back made a loud crack. "Man, we're getting old."

"Nah." Hakoda had a twinkle in his eye. "You've always been an old fart."

Affectionate smile in return. "Thanks, asshole."

"Daddy!" Katara, all decked out in her little footie pajamas, somehow managed to not get crushed as the two big men wrestled bags of equipment through the narrow entranceway. She wrapped herself around her father's thigh and gave it a hug.

Bato made a big show of being offended. "What? Don't I get any love?" Katara detached herself from her father and threw herself in the other man's waiting arms.

Sokka ran up waving a piece of paper, almost ready to burst with excitement. "Dad! Look what I drew!"

Kanna perched a freshly clean bowl on top of the small drying rack by the sink and greeted her son with a kiss on the cheek. "He's been waiting all day to show you that." She tried to look serious for fear of offending the proud boy but the smile was obvious in her eyes.

"This looks great!" Hakoda made a great show of examining Sokka's hard work as the boy beamed. The squiggles and stick figures made little sense to him though. "Uh, what is it?"

"It's you and Bato! Out in the field." Sokka pointed helpfully. "There's a tank!"

"How silly of me! Now I get it!" Hakoda said with a father's enthusiasm, still having no clue what was going on in the picture. "Great work, son!"

Putting it on display on the fridge with a large magnet, the man swung its door open to snag two bottles of what he was really looking for. Bato took one gratefully and Hakoda took a long pull from his own. "Kya not back yet?" he asked a little wistfully.

"There was some commotion on base this morning." His mother didn't bother looking at him as she stacked dishes back into the cupboard. "She's probably stuck in her office cleaning up everyone's mess as usual."

They retired to the living room, Sokka relentlessly peppering the men with questions about the past week's field activity. Katara fought a losing battle as her eyes kept threatening to fall closed for the evening.

The doorbell rang.

"Och, who could it be so late at night?" Hakoda could hear Kanna grumble from the kitchen as she opened the door.

"Hakoda!"

The alarm in his mother's voice took him by surprise. He peeled Sokka from his leg and joined her, worry starting to prickle the skin on the back of his neck when he saw how pale she looked.

Two men in Class A dress greens were at his door, hats in hand.

What the fuck was this?

"Sir? Are you Major Hakoda Amaruq? Husband of Captain Kya Amaruq?"

_No_.

Hakoda backpedaled from the door, limbs feeling slow, heavy.

Their father's behavior put the kids on alert. Thank god for Bato's quick wits. The man hefted Katara over his shoulder. "C'mon guys." He took Sokka's tiny hand in his. "Why doesn't Uncle Bato take you upstairs and tell you a bedtime story?"

This suggestion was met with approval. The lump in Hakoda's throat only got bigger as he watched them go.

Class A's at his door late at night. Only one possible reason for this. Maybe there was a mistake, maybe they were here for something else, maybe…

Maybe not.

The baby faced captain shot a glance at the somber chaplain by his side and stepped into the entryway. "Sir, I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the…"

"I know why you're here!" Hakoda barked. "How did it happen?"

"Sir, if you know, then please understand that we…"

The crunch of drywall as he put his fist through it made them all jump. Hakoda could see that his knuckles were raw, bleeding but he couldn't feel it. "TELL ME!" he roared, grief starting to burn a hole deep in his chest.

When the captain finally spoke again, he chose his words carefully. "There was a fire. In her section of the med clinic. She was helping her patients evacuate when the roof caved in. The cause of the fire is under investigation."

Absurd. If anyone was going to die while on active duty it would have been _him_. _He_ was the one that they had whispered about, late at night when they were absolutely sure the kids were tucked away in bed. _He_ was the one getting thrown a war zone. Not her. She should have been in her tiny little makeshift hospital, hip deep in injured soldiers that wanted to try and flirt with her, miles from danger.

She should have been safe.

"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your wife, Captain Kya Amaruq died from her injuries this afternoon at 1600 hours en route to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."

Good god.

What was he going to tell the kids?

"On behalf of the Secretary of the Army, please accept the United States Army's deepest …"

He tried to glare at them but the men were just a green haze. Blinking furiously, he pawed uselessly at his face. "Get out." His anger spiked white hot when the two dress greens didn't respond. His military side tried to remind him that they were only doing their job.

He didn't want to listen to _that_.

It wasn't clear how the kitchen chair wound up in Hakoda's hands or why it flew across the room. "Get. Out!"

They were smart enough to listen this time. Door slammed behind them.

Hakoda had to ignore his mother's quiet tears. He needed to be with his children.

----------

The funeral had taken longer than expected to arrange. Even death could not halt the mountain of paperwork that made the army run. It happened stateside- like she would have wanted.

The day of the ceremony was mostly a blur. He remembered Bato finding him in the small bedroom reserved for the kids clutching in one hand Katara's shiny little dress shoe, sobbing uncontrollably as he searched in vain for the other. He remembered watching the chaplain's short stubby fingers as they handed him the crisply folded flag that had draped her coffin and that was about it.

A final report on what led up to the fire was going to take months but that didn't stop the rumors from getting around. An electrical short had sent the old building ablaze. Fifteen injured. One fatality. Kya had saved many lives, they said.

Of course she did.

Three months later the official report came out. Bloated and full of legalese, the crux of it had been that a shoddy wiring job that was supposed to have been handled by one of those new civilian based private military companies was at fault. The PMCs were supposed to be more 'streamlined', more 'efficient' for jobs like these. Or 'cheaper' as some would say. The company had hired a contractor who hired a subcontractor who didn't know jack shit. No bid contract and no oversight.

Then the final blow. Since the PMC's were so new, there were no laws or regulations on the books regarding their use. No charges could be filed unless pursued through the German courts, which the army declined to do. All politics, no doubt. There was a lot of money being thrown around.

There was an uproar in the press when the report dropped and just like with every news cycle the indignant pundits moved on to a new controversy after a few days. The company responsible swept it under a rug by closing down the construction division. It opted to focus on its offensive and defensive operations exclusively and changed its name with little fanfare. What had been Sozin Industries was now simply known by the innocent sounding name of Kai.

Two years later and Hakoda's contract with the army was up for renewal.

That didn't happen. He had a new mission.

It was hard going, traveling so much to make enough money to live while trying to contact every congressman, senator and legislator he could. Laws needed to get on the books. What had happened to Kya could not, would not happen again.

Sometimes guilt would plague him though. At his worst he wondered if his kids felt like they had lost both parents that day. But he knew they would understand. The sacrifice they made as a family meant that one day no more soldiers would give up their lives due to incompetence or greed.

At least that's what he kept telling himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Warning: Some very mild suggestions of child abuse. Also for the squeamish some medical descriptions.

I'd like to thank everyone who offers comments. Even if it may not look like it I do incorporate those ideas into what I do. Any feedback is welcome.

-------------------

Reporting to their new duty station wasn't as exciting as it may have sounded. The whole first week was another win for the 135th Powerpoint Brigade . Lecture after lecture. Tons of paperwork and more than a fair share of bullshit. Nonsense about dealing with their finances, how their insurance worked. Stuff that made their days in basic seem like a whirlwind of fun and excitement.

Sokka tried to cover a huge yawn as he struggled to find a way to prop himself upright in his uncomfortable little chair. Zuko already had his patented half-hooded look going, eyes half closed with a faint scowl that suggested he was deep in thought but actually meant he was close to falling asleep. They still hadn't gotten their housing assignments and the guys were packed eight to a room at a shitty little motel nearby. Sleeping on the floor wasn't too bad but dear god, some of the guys could snore loud enough to wake the dead.

The morning had been filled with needles. Drawing blood, vaccines for random things. Shots against typhoid and polio pretty much confirmed everyone's suspicions that they were going to wind up in Afghanistan, even if they hadn't gotten their orders yet.

Now they were stuck in the same room for the rest of the day. One session on the schedule had piqued all the boys' interest. They had stopped reading after finding had the word 'sex' in the title. Unfortunately the rest of the words were 'transmitted' and 'diseases' so they were going to be in for a bit of a letdown.

The lieutenant from the Preventive Medicine Center was pretty cute. Prim in her officer's uniform, her neatly braided brown hair made her look even more elfin then she already did. Sokka wondered who she had to piss off to get stuck with this gig. He had no idea how she was going to get through this talk in front of a bunch of horny young morons who were already giggling like school girls at the assortment of condoms on the lectern.

"Gentlemen, I'm Lieutenant Song. Today we're going to talk about prevention and treatment of STD's. Feel free to ask questions."

She pressed on gamely through the snickers and whispers, discussing various contraception methods. The army pretty much assumed that most enlisted were dumber than a bag of hammers so part of the lesson was showing a room full of idiots how to properly wrap up their dick.

Song had just torn open a condom to explain how to use one correctly when a bunch of Jeter's group began coughing violently to cover their laughter. The fuck had his usual smartass smirk on his face, proud of whatever lewd comment of his that got the guys going.

To her credit, the lieutenant was sweetness and light as she stared Jeter down. "Is there a question, Private?"

Parting his legs ever so slightly, Jeter looked her dead in the eye. "Just wondering if you needed a volunteer to help you with your demonstration, ma'am." Fresh coughing fits broke the silence.

Only a manwhore like Jeter would have the _huevos_ to say that shit to a female officer.

Her thin eyebrow arched delicately. "Thank you for your offer but I think I have everything under control."

It quieted down a little after that but got rowdy again when she started talking about transmission rates in the military. Put a bunch of young healthy individuals in a crowded space together and they fucked like rabbits. Who would have guessed?

The lights went out for the disease part of the lecture as it got a little more clinical and a lot more slides. The boys already had a separate session on HIV when they got screened so it was all the other ones that were brought up now. Which bugs were temporary, which ones were a gift that kept on giving.

"Let's see how much you already know." Song squinted to read names on uniforms in the dim light. "Jeter, is it? You seem pretty interested in today's topic." she said in all innocence. "Is Chlamydia treatable?"

He blushed. Jeter _blushed_. Ducking his head, he shuffled his feet noisily under his chair. "Yes."

"Correct!" Song continued on, didn't miss a beat in fact, seemingly oblivious to the loud catcalls that flew Jeter's way. "95% of cases are cured with a single round of appropriate antibiotics. But just because there are STD's that are treatable doesn't mean it'll all be fine if you come down with them." She clicked a button on her little remote control, bringing up a picture of one of the most disgusting things they had ever seen.

Now it all became clear. This was how this chick got her revenge. There was no way any of them would be permitted to leave. It was an hour of the most horrible, vile and bizarre slides imaginable. Penises and vaginas of all shapes and sizes. Some of them healthy. Most of them not. Sores and scabs and things that dripped that shouldn't be dripping. Each new picture sent a stabbing pain through the balls of every man in the room. Some of the guys were looking pretty green. Sokka would be surprised if there wasn't one or two of them cowering under a desk in a fetal position by hour's end.

The lights came back on, revealing Song's faint smile. "Any questions?" It was deathly quiet. "In that case… Dismissed!"

The room couldn't clear fast enough.

* * *

Song rubbed at the bridge of her nose in frustration. The hours had been long and she still had a few more grunts to examine before calling it a day.

It got to her sometimes. Lots of fresh raw faces that would end up god knew where. All she could do was make sure they left her care as healthy as possible so they could be strong as they went head first into danger.

She clicked on her list to give her ridiculously slow computer some time to pull up her next patient and called out "Next!"

Private shuffled in, took a seat. It was the pale Asian guy that had been in lecture that morning. He was cute enough but she never would have remembered him if it wasn't for that horrendous scar.

Her computer bonked at her as his record came up. She poured over his details. Zuko. First names were important to her, too easy to just lump patients together. Birth date. Vaccination records. History of a few minor injuries from some tournament during basic. Then- nothing beyond that.

"What the hell is _this_?" Song pounded on her keyboard, wondering if the network was somehow hiding the rest of the record from her. She chastised herself. Shouldn't let her irritation show.

The private fidgeted in the padded exam room chair. "What's what ma'am?"

Clicking through the tabs on her screen, she checked the dates again. "There's a surprising lack of information on you, Private." Grrr. That sounded a lot more accusatory than she had intended.

She met his eyes, softening her expression. Just looking at it she knew it _had_ to be painful for him to simply smile or laugh, that thick plate of skin giving his cheek little range of motion. There were so many things that could be done. Incisions to release tension on the scar to get him blinking easier. Skin grafts. She knew the options. Knew them well. It was her responsibility to make sure he knew them too.

"I would have expected there to be more. Has anyone talked to you about a consult with a plastic surgeon?"

The private held himself totally rigid. "It's an old injury." No need to clarify what she meant. A poster on the wall informing soldiers of the importance of proper hand washing technique seemed to require all of his attention.

Suicide attempt? No. Someone would have had to check that out for him to be able to enlist in the first place.

"Can you tell me a little bit about it?"

You could almost hear his teeth grind together. "It happened a long time ago. There was a… an accident. When I was a kid. I did something I shouldn't have. And I paid the price."

There was a small flinch. Easy to miss if she hadn't been looking. So no accident. Abuse then? Maybe the scar wasn't a problem if he never had a reason to smile.

"You know, there's one thing that's always bugged me." Song kept her demeanor cheerful, as if they were conversing about the weather or what she was planning on having for dinner. "Soldiers always think talking about their problems will make them seem weak." She casually scratched her knee, drawing up her loose leg of her scrub pants to reveal mottled patches of skin from ankle to calf. Crossing her legs, Song made a show of examining the thick fibrous bands of tissue as if they hadn't been a part of her for as long as she could remember.

"They forget that a burden shared is a burden lessened." She glanced up at him. He couldn't tear himself away, his shocked look of recognition unmistakable.

Some signs of abuse were easier to hide than others.

His eyes snapped back to the poster as his emotionless mask fell back into place. "Do you need anything else from me, ma'am?"

It made her sad. "No. Dismissed."

She didn't watch him go, instead listening for his booted footfalls as he sprinted down the tiled hallway.

----------------

Sokka almost did a little dance when he read his housing assignment. "The new barracks! Fuck yes! Not the old shithole building."

Nice brand new two person suites versus a dorm with ten of your closest friends and an asbestos problem? No thanks.

The piece of paper wasn't even in Zuko's hand for five seconds before Sokka grabbed it from him, scanning its contents.

"No fucking way!" It was funny to see Sokka speechless. Well, as close to speechless as he got, anyway.

"What? Did I wind up in the crap factory?"

"No!" The paper was shoved back in his face. "We're in the same room!"

Zuko felt his heart race. First bit of good luck in a while.

They rushed to inspect their shiny new home.

"One twenty, one twenty four, one twenty eight…" Zuko pulled up short. "What the hell?" They were supposed to be in 132 but the door was already propped open, loud music coming from inside.

Sticking their heads inside, they were greeted by an ass sticking out from under a desk in the common area for the suite. A head popped up.

"Hey ladies. How's it hangin'?"

No. Nonono.

"Get the fuck out of here Jeter!" Sokka was ready to brawl. "This is our room!"

"Piss off! This place is mine too, bitches!" Jeter tossed his crumpled piece of paper at them.

Longshot magically appeared from the toilet, toothbrush in hand to add another warm body to the already cramped space.

Sokka scanned the sheet quickly. "This has _got_ to be a mistake."

Jeter shared a sardonic grin. "No mistake. We _all_ got dicked over!"

Pushing his way through the fray, Zuko burst into the other bedroom.

It was tiny. Shoebox tiny. With bunkbeds. The other room was the same.

The four of _them_ in a two person suite?

This would not end well.

An arm snaked around Zuko's neck, throwing him into a headlock. "We are going to be the bestest roomies _ever_!"

It took all his self control to not put his fist right through Jeter's laughing face.


	13. Chapter 13

Reviews of any sort greatly appreciated. I am grateful to those who take the time to comment. Not guilting you into anything or nothin'.

edit: the response to this chapter has been surprisingly quiet, so if you've stuck with the story this far and feel disappointed I would appreciate input as to why. Thanks.

Smuttier version available at my livejournal.

--------------

Things got a lot more real over the past couple of weeks. Deployment was an absolute certainty. _Where_ was easy to guess. It was _when_ that had the entire company on edge. Keeping calm was not easy when the only thing that was definite was _soon_.

MOUT training was on the agenda all day, every day. Fighting in urban terrain was a giant suckfest. All the buildings and vehicles, nooks and crannies. Lots of places for danger to hide right under your nose. Add the presence of innocent civilians into the mix and it was a recipe for disaster for an untrained soldier.

The boys' team stack hugged the exterior wall tightly, ready to enter and clear a room. Nut to butt, nut to butt; the phrase had been drilled into their heads an absurd number of times this morning. Stay close until you could flow into a room; make sure you scan every square inch of your section for danger as quickly as possible.

A nudge to the ribs told Sokka it was go-time. His brain rebelled- it was all fake, fakey fake, all plywood and mannequins and paper targets. It didn't stop his heart from hammering in his chest as he moved into position and got in a good kick to boot the door in. He felt his squad mates scramble past, taking up position in the small trailer, rifles at the ready.

Sokka didn't even get a chance to get past the door before there was a tangle of voices letting out streams of curses over bursts of gunfire. There was more indistinct yelling and the sound of more than one body hitting the ground. Goosebumps crawled up the base of his skull. What the fuck happened? There was a flood of relief at the sight of Zuko groggily sitting upright as he rubbed at a spot of pigment on the back of his neck, just high of his ballistic collar. It was a one in a million shot. Simmunitions hurt like a motherfucker. Must have felt like a hammer to the skull.

The training instructor was already berating Jeter who was down for the count, rolling around as he clutched his thigh in pain. "What the hell did you think you were doing, son?" The staff sergeant raged down at the writhing man with no sympathy. "You've gotta make sure you clear a room right! That macho bullshit won't fly here!"

"And you!" Zuko scrambled to his feet as the squat man redirected his righteous wrath at him. "You don't just advance on your own even if this fool damn near got his dick shot off. I don't care if he fucked your grandma! If he goes down, you take care of each other before your own dumbfuck head gets blown off for real!" The man rounded on all of them. "Teamwork's your best chance at survival out there! Whether you like it or not you're a team now so you goddamn babies had better start acting like one! "

The staff sergeant calmed himself as he walked them through the process _again_ but Sokka wasn't listening. There was only one thing that kept repeating in his head, like an endless loop of sound.

If this had been a live fire exercise, Zuko would have been a dead man.

The team ran it again and again and again: Enter. Clear. Move on.

They pushed themselves to exhaustion until their muscles couldn't forget the rhythm even if they tried.

--------------

What the hell was Sokka up to?

Zuko flipped back his cuff to glance at his watch for what felt like the millionth time. The bench by the PX entrance was a good scouting location but he was having little luck finding the one face he wanted among the many wandering in and out of the building. They had agreed to meet at the front door but with Sokka twenty minutes overdue, he felt his energy start to dwindle. Shopping had been Sokka's idea; not his.

No surprise that the place was packed. Weekends were always like this. Soldiers and their families milling about, picking out clothing or groceries or hitting the runty food court for a bite to eat.

He sighed. At least the trip got them away from Jackass Central Command. Jeter's PS3 and his stockpile of spectacularly shitty beer had made their common area The Place To Be ever since he got his little man-cave up and running. It would have been vaguely tolerable if it didn't mean that there were hordes of guys piling into what little space the room had.

All. The. Fucking. Time.

Another peek at his watch. Still no sign of Sokka. They wouldn't be at the PX at all if Zuko hadn't wound up committing a fuckup of catastrophic proportions.

The shame of the disastrous training incident had been the spark. Then there was not enough privacy. Not enough sleep. Not enough Sokka. It all added up and flamed out in the worst possible way.

One night it had been just one little snide comment from Jeter. Not any different than any other night, really but Zuko had lost it- blown the fuck up and kicked everyone out of the suite who didn't belong there. He regretted it instantly but what was done was done.

To the other guys on their floor Zuko was now the Resident Asshole. Good job alienating everyone you need to rely on for the next year or three, dipshit. God, why did he have to be such an idiot?

Sokka had been ready to save his sorry ass once again. The guy swore that he had the perfect plan to get everyone to play nice. Zuko trusted this but it was incomprehensible how Sokka's mind worked. What could the PX possibly provide that would fix his fuck up?

A familiar whistle pulled him out of his sulk. Zuko looked up to find the crowd parting for Sokka as he threw his full weight behind his fully laden shopping cart to get it moving.

Dear god. There were gallons and gallons of cheap detergent with several cases of even cheaper beer perched precariously on top. "So I'm supposed to get drunk, offer to do everyone's laundry and they stop hating my guts?"

"No, no- of _course_ not! That would be _silly_!" Smile of pure innocence from Sokka triggered warning bells. "We just need some team building exercises."

-------------------

Catching himself on the door jamb, Jeter looked vaguely disgusted as he tried to figure out what sort of goo was covering the floor. "What the fuck is this?"

Upending the container in his hands, Zuko let what little detergent was left drip out to add more to the already glistening hallway. "You'll see."

"Fire in the hole!"

It was Sokka. Soaking wet, the man started at the far end of the hallway and took off at a run. Once he reached the perimeter of detergent he jumped, laying out in full extension to hit the almost frictionless layer of liquid chest down at full speed. Jeter ducked back into his room as the sliding man sailed by, sticking his head out again to watch Sokka come to a gentle stop once his landing strip ended.

"So." Zuko regarded Jeter coolly, faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think?"

Jeter's eyes were alight, mind already running through the myriad of possibilities. "Outstanding!"

-------------

They'd made a race of sorts out of it. Try to sprint down the slippery hallway, shotgun a can of beer then awkwardly scramble their way back to give their teammate a go. It worked out pretty well, even if the sprint part made Zuko feel like a newborn fawn trapped on a frozen lake.

It didn't take long before the entire hallway turned up. The lure of beer and mischief was catnip to young soldiers. After enough beer, the pretense of a race was dropped, devolving into the usual giant wrestling match with the added benefit of no one really being able to get a hold of anyone since they were greased up like soapy pigs. The rowdy bunch who had hated Zuko's guts the day before were cheering him on whenever he managed to pin someone through the slime. Even Jeter laughed when Zuko took him down in a tangle of limbs.

It was brilliant.

A gentle shove at his waist almost bowled Zuko over. A small ball of pleasure warmed his belly when he caught a whiff of familiar sweat as Sokka pressed against his cold, messy back to wrestle playfully.

It sent a thrill up Zuko's spine. The feel of the other man against him- out here, in the hallway, _in plain sight_.

Small shiver at the feel of Sokka's whisper on his neck. "I talked the rest of the guys into cleaning up this nonsense if I gave them that last case of beer. They'll be at that for a while." Zuko let out a hiss as Sokka got in a well timed grope that anyone viewing from the outside would have thought purely accidental. "Time for bed?"

A low growl was all Zuko could manage. He wet his lips but all he got was a taste of disgusting detergent. "You are a goddamned genius."

---------------

Zuko never showered so fast in his life. His back tingled, impossibly itchy against his woolen blanket. Spending the evening marinating in laundry detergent was probably a great way to get a rash but he really couldn't be bothered to worry about it anymore. His blood felt hot in his veins, pounding through his fingertips, eager to get down to business. Come _on_. The harsh rasp of water running through pipes overhead only fed into his impatience. What the fuck was taking Sokka so _long_?

Zuko raked the skin of his inner thigh, conjuring up all sorts of smutty visuals on what the other man could possibly be doing in the shower. Maybe he was lathering up to get rid of the rest of the dried out detergent residue that seemed to stick to every crease and crevice. Or possibly working himself in the shower. Did he handle himself the same way he had taught himself to touch Zuko? Slow gentle teasing that whipped you into a frenzy then –bam- out of nowhere grip going all firm and fast and perfectly on the right side of too much. Or did Sokka take his time when he was on his own? God, that devastating self-assurance probably showed up here as well. He'd have no difficulties taking himself in hand to confidently wring out exactly what he needed.

_Oh god_. For the love of god, _please_ hurry up.

Pumping himself with his fist once, twice, and again, Zuko was too caught up in his musings to hear the pipes go silent. He startled as the room flooded with light for a moment, too thick-witted in his haze to react fast enough to cover himself. The door slammed shut. The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot when the only other thing he could hear was his own harsh pants.

"Were you just… Are you …?" Sokka sputtered uselessly as he took in the flushed face of the man sprawled out before him. He flung his towel aside. "Son of a bitch!"

How Sokka managed to leap between the bunk beds without braining himself was a mystery. Nothing important was crushed thank god. He went straight to biting at the lines of Zuko's neck, sucking at the curve of chin, his whisper full of moral outrage. "You couldn't _wait_ for _me_?"

The weight of Sokka's length in his hand felt even better as the man arched into it when he gave it a firm stroke. He didn't know how he did it but Zuko pulled and flipped them both, making them spill out across the floor. Needed to get out of these ridiculous bunk beds for better access.

Ducking his head, Zuko gave the man a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue. "_Wait_? I don't ever _stop_ thinking about you." A good hard grind into the still damp skin of Sokka's thigh felt just right. "You saved my life today." Zuko traced the ridge of clavicle with his tongue. "I would still be on everyone's shit list if it wasn't for you."

He startled as a hand probed the still sore spot at the base of his skull. Wave of confusion passed over Zuko's face as he looked up to find Sokka suddenly tense and serious. "We _need_ these guys on our side if we're gonna get through this. I _had_ to do something. If that bullet had been real… I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

Stab of remorse hit Zuko hard, kick-in-the-gut hard. Stubborn hothead always getting himself in trouble. It hadn't really mattered before because it had _always_ been _him_- and only him- that had been forced to deal with the consequences.

His father had seen to that.

But now- it had been so long, way too fucking long since he'd let another person get this close. It hadn't sunk in to his thick skull that he was no longer alone when dealing with the repercussions of his actions. He thought he could handle his own pain, one way or another. But the pain of those closest to him? It was too terrible to think about.

Well, no more fuckups. Not if he could help it.

Zuko ran his hands up and down the other man's ribs, as if wiping a slate clean, pushing grim thoughts aside. "I'm not going anywhere."


	14. Chapter 14

It started like it always did- a whisper in the mess hall, passed along in hushed tones over the water cooler before it spread through the barracks like a nasty virus. There wasn't a single soldier on post who didn't gossip like a prissy housewife. The ink on their freshly signed orders hadn't even dried before everyone knew.

Deployment date was set. Congratulations! You just won a free trip to Afghanistan!

Half a world away from home. Brutally hot in the summer combined with tropical storm force winds with a hint of a sand storm facial. Insanely cold in the winter. Just wonderful.

Then along came a spider.

Jeter was already getting his jollies fucking with the guys, filling their heads with horror stories about the damn camel spiders. Arachnophobia wasn't something that Sokka normally counted as a personal flaw but holy fuck- a hint of the devil in Jeter's eye was more than enough to make a grown man wet himself when the son of a bitch talked about finding things in your bed. Creepy crawly _bitey_ things that were easily as big as the palm of a grown man's hand

No. Goddamned. Thanks.

Pulling late night guard duty after getting back from three weeks of field training exercises had left Sokka completely dead on his feet. Not much going on at two in the morning so he had struggled to keep awake by skimming a dog eared copy of an Afghani cultural guide he had snagged from the library. Much easier to hide from some overly anal duty officer than the spectacular mountain of paperwork he had waiting for him back in his room.

It was indeed spectacular. A veritable shit storm of legalese. All of it required before their company got shipped out. Making sure all your ducks were in a neat little row before you got stuck out in the ass end of nowhere. He absently flicked off the lights in his suite's common area. Quiet now. Don't want to wake people up. Puffing his cheeks in frustration, he navigated his way in the dark. Zuko was usually out like a light at this time of night and god knew they both needed every bit of sleep they could get.

His mind couldn't help but drift to the heavy shit that no one really ever willingly talked about. Power of attorney. A will. At least his family would get a big fat check from the army that would help Katara finish school if the worst of the worst happened.

Death gratuity. Sorry your son is dead, but here's a tip for all his hard work. What goddamned REMF thought _that_ name was a good idea?

Weariness sapped what little mental energy he had to devote to the topic. Sokka reached blindly for the doorknob to -_their_- bedroom. The thought of a bed with a particular warm body sharing it felt so _good_ right now. These little hints, these little teases of what life might be like just blew him away sometimes. Man, if only they could…

The loud _clunk_ of their suite's tiny dorm fridge as it valiantly struggled its way into action startled him out of his stupor, sending him surging forward to connect bodily with the door that he had completely failed to open. Jarring vibration rippled through the wall. Shit shit shit. Heart racing, he silently cursed his stupidity as he finally managed to get the door open with a minimum of sound.

He needn't have bothered.

Click.

Click.

Zuko was sitting at their pathetic excuse for a desk, back to the door, desk lamp trying its best to fill the room as the only source of light.

The words of apology died in Sokka's throat. It wasn't any one thing that set off his warning bells. It was all the little stuff. It was the overly stiff line of Zuko's back. The rigidly controlled breathing.

Or maybe it was the failure to acknowledge the presence of someone that had just crashed into the room like an uncoordinated bull that was stumbling home from a particularly successful bender.

It was three in the goddamned morning. What the hell?

Click.

Click.

He scanned the desk over Zuko's shoulder, hunting for clues. Paper. Envelopes. He stepped closer. One envelope appeared done- almost bursting at the seams with pages- sealed and propped against the cheap lamp with the words 'For Uncle' written on the front. It was in that precise, strangely beautiful handwriting that Sokka would have sworn was professionally printed using some fancy schmancy font if he hadn't witnessed Zuko reproduce it with zero effort about a billion times. A cheap retractable biro was held limply in one pale hand, thumb rhythmically punching the button like a metronome. The other had fingers spread wide over a blank sheet of stationary, as if pinning the expensive-looking paper there in case it tried to make a break for it.

Click.

Click.

How long had Zuko been sitting there like this?

"Hey," Sokka offered gently, inching closer. There was an odd compulsion to avoid startling the man even though he knew there was no way Zuko missed his clumsy arrival.

The clicking stopped.

Thankfully.

"Hey." The answer was hoarse, exhausted. Still no attempt to turn around.

Hmph.

"We _could_ do this the hard way." Sokka caught his lower lip in his teeth as he let his hand hover for a moment before settling on the other man's shoulder. "I can ask if you're okay and you'll tell me everything's fine which I totally won't believe because you're a pretty crappy liar. Then I'll wind up pestering you so much that you'll finally talk to me just to shut me up. Or we could jump to the talking part then go to bed because I'm kinda tired and frankly you look like some dog chewed you up and shit you out."

Zuko deflated in an explosive rush of air that could have been a laugh. Or a sob.

Possibly both.

"I was trying to write letters." This answer was harsher than before, even more exhausted. "Farewell letters to my family." Deep shaky breath as the wooden chair rocked back to balance on two legs. "In case anything happens." Zuko flicked his pen distractedly at the single completed envelope. "My uncle was easy. I mean easy but not easy." Hiss of frustration. "Goddamnit!" The chair slammed back to its correct position on the floor, fist slamming to the desk in accompaniment. "Talking is such bullshit! I always wind up sounding like an idiot!"

"I dunno." Sokka ran his hand down the back of the long slender neck, hoping it was soothing rather than an irritant. "You were doing pretty good so far."

"I tried to write one to my father." Curling inward, Zuko brought his tightly shuttered face to within inches of the blank page before him, as if praying to the paper to begin speaking to him. "Don't know what to say. I couldn't…" Voice was wavering now, raw and open. "Bastard probably wouldn't bother to read it anyway."

A spot of wetness hit the stationary on the desk. Sokka watched the single fallen tear pucker the paper dead center, marring its perfectly smooth surface.

Zuko rarely spoke of this man but Sokka already hated him with a passion. There was something here that was too deep, too dark. Christ. He couldn't even… what… what father would toss aside the parting words of his dead son? What the fuck would cause Zuko to even consider this might happen?

Enough.

Grabbing the chair's startled occupant, Sokka pulled him by the bicep, bringing the reluctant man to his feet and wrapping around Zuko in a fierce hug whether the man wanted it or not. They looked ridiculous at first, Zuko rigid as a board, fighting, always fighting, unwilling to give in to the lure of the arms cradling him. But then -all at once- he gave in, slumping in atypically graceless relief, still so unaccustomed to comfort freely given.

Sokka felt the press of warm forehead at the crook of his neck, fists twisting up the shirt against his back. "These letters are for you as much as them," he murmured, hugging Zuko to him even tighter. "If your dad won't read what you've got to say to him after you're gone…"

Gone. That little word all by its lonesome made him swallow hard. Get it together moron. You can't afford to fall apart here.

"Fuck'em." Sokka's voice cracked unexpectedly. "Fuck. Him," he repeated, carefully this time to make sure there was no confusion. "He doesn't deserve you as a son anyways."

They stayed this way for a while, holding each other up until time dulled the pain at least a little. Too fatigued to care, they crawled into the bottom bunk fully clothed. Breathing each other in, they were asleep in seconds.

-----------------

a/n Another chapter. Lots of page views (lots and lots for me anyways) but few comments. If you've stuck with the story as far as this chapter and have never said anything, feel free to drop me a line. I'd love to know what about it makes people stick with it but what's lacking about it that people don't often comment. I think my writing has changed a bit from critique I get so I would love to polish it even more.

Thanks so much to those that regularly offer input. It keeps my head in the game.


	15. Chapter 15

Families flew in from everywhere to wish their soldiers well. They had to. Twelve months was a long time away from home and people needed to say goodbye.

And good luck.

The official deployment involved a small quiet ceremony and a whole lot of tears and it was done. It would be a week or more before the company completed their trek across the world and ended up in country

The craggy beat up bus stuffed to the roof with gear and anxious young men rattled its geriatric way along the highway, sending vibrations up your spine so hard that it set your teeth chattering. Zuko shifted his small backpack in his lap to allow himself an easier slump in his poorly padded seat, the old school grab bar along the top feeling oddly pleasant against the back of his scalp. It meant a lot to see Uncle again though unsurprising that no one else had come. War was the family business and had been for generations. The deployment of a lowly grunt was hardly an occasion auspicious enough to disrupt a busy schedule. With a sigh his head fell naturally to one side as he pretended to sleep, allowing him to watch Sokka unobtrusively which was just fine.

The object of his studies was pressing his face against the cheap plexiglas window once more. As if Sokka didn't look away he might still catch some small glimpse of his family no matter how much time and distance it had been since their silhouettes had disappeared over the horizon.

Turning from the window, Sokka visibly struggled to stop fidgeting. Zuko watched the man finally settle on staring sadly at the seat back in front of him, fingers knotting and unknotting in his lap over and over again.

The desire to do something, _anything_ for this man was a living thing, whispering its urgent call to action in Zuko's ear.

Small problem though: he had no fucking clue what he should do about it.

Sokka was the idea man, not him. The problem solver: the man who was fearless enough to wear his heart on the sleeve of one hand with a fist ready to defend himself in the other.

Sure, Zuko could take on a handful of opponents alone and barehanded; succeed through sheer force of will when tasked with facing enemies against impossible odds. But give him simple human interaction and he was as close to useless as made no difference. A complete idiot that didn't have the slightest idea how to begin offering comfort to another human being. He didn't want to fuck this up.

Particularly when it was for someone as important as this.

Instinct. It was all Zuko had. And right here, right now -in this obscenely old bus with its oppressive stink of nervous sweat, under the watchful eyes of young men filled with false bravado - those instincts made him want to reach out and touch this man.

Still horribly unsure of himself, Zuko turned his head away and nonchalantly shifted his backpack so it bridged the gap of distance between them. His hand slowly slipped underneath the backpack as if of its own accord. The heavy uniform fabric felt rough against his knuckles as he gently, slowly ran the back of his hand in an arc against the outside of Sokka's thigh.

His heart raced as he strained to hear a response, some acknowledging movement and heard none. God this was stupid. What the hell was he thinking? How was this supposed to be reassuring? Fuck, if somebody spotted his pathetic display of ridiculousness they'd be in deep shit…

A touch of a finger stilling the small movements of his hand startled Zuko badly. Somehow he managed to not go flying out of his seat. The seeking hand grasped his own firmly, squeezing it so hard that it was just on the right side of painful so he squeezed back. Finally relaxing, the two hands interlaced fingers underneath the protective shield of the backpack and stayed that way for quite some time.

-------

Sokka thoroughly enjoyed his stretch before hopping to his feet. It would feel great to be on solid ground after so many hours on this fucking plane. He tossed a smile over his shoulder as Zuko gave him a hand getting his massive pack into position.

Training Center at Manas. Just outside of Bishkek, Krygyzstan. The home away from home for those that had a hard time with vowels. Some called it the Gateway to Hell. Either way, they would be spending a few days here as equipment and supplies were shuttled in before they thumbed a ride into Afghanistan.

The men disembarked slowly, ogling fighter jets and cargo carriers as tiny little people coaxed the massive things into their artful dance on the busy runway.

"There!" Zuko pointed a finger at a giant whale of a plane. "The C17. That's what we'll be taking into Kabul."

Sokka let out a low whistle. "_That_ is one _ugly_ plane."

"Hey!" A female voice full of indignation made them both jump guiltily. "Don't make fun of my moose!"

Holy shit. One thing was certain about folks in the military and that was that few if any would be entering any beauty contests.

But this chick… Damn.

Auburn hair braided up tight. Sweet little upturned nose. Flight suit did little to compliment her figure but you could tell she had curves underneath the bulk. Even with her eyes hidden behind a pair of mirrored aviators she was cute as hell. She was adorable with her hip canted out to the side, full-on pissed for talking shit about her moose, whatever the hell _that_ was.

It was also plainly clear that calling her 'adorable' to her face was going to mean winding up with a good hard punch to the cock.

She yanked off her sunglasses to reveal huge blue-green eyes. Angry blue-green eyes. "The C17 Globemaster is one of the most versatile military transport vehicles in the world! You won't be calling it ugly when I fly your sorry asses back home."

"Waitaminute." Realization slowly dawned but Sokka's tongue was moving too fast for him to stop it. "_You_ fly _that_ thing?"

"Aww, you Army guys are _so_ cute." The boys' eyes locked on to her full lips as she suggestively sucked on the unfolded arm of her aviators. Wetly pulling the earpiece from her mouth, she tapped at her prominently displayed C17 pilot's badge. "It's a damn shame you're dumber than you look."

The boys blinked uselessly at each other as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

"Damn!" Jeter ambled up, eyes lighting up at the sight of someone hot with at least two X chromosomes. "How did you fucktards get lucky enough to chat up _that_ pretty little piece?"

Zuko somehow managed to successfully pull off a full body eye roll.

"I'm kinda surprised you didn't sniff her out as soon as we got here," Sokka answered easily. "Your case of blue balls must be interfering with that vagina detector you got."

"_Man_, you just can't _stop_ thinkin' about my balls, can you?" The grin on Jeter's face was pure deviltry. "You'd better watch out or your boyfriend's gonna get jealous." Too intent on following the sway of the departing pilot's hips, he failed to notice the brief exchange of wary looks.

-------------

Their 'accommodations' looked like a big fucking circus tent filled with bunk beds instead of anything remotely cool like tigers or elephants. Thankfully there were amenities like internet, decent beer and a pool hall, which were the only things anyone ever needed, really.

Sokka took a small sip of his tiny, tiny beer. Needed to nurse this as much as possible. A two drink daily maximum was kind of a tease but he could see the sense of not wanting a base full of soldiers that were loaded in all senses of the word.

The Australians were particularly vocal about the inhuman injustice perpetrated on them by the foul barman. This disappointment dried up when they opted to play 'Rock-Paper-Punch in the Face' which consisted of the loser of rock-paper-scissors having to stand unguarded against a full-on shot to the face. Zuko was still stuck at the bar trying to exchange his drink ticket but managed to politely decline when the Aussies asked if he wanted to join in the fun.

Finally settling onto the stool at Sokka's side, Zuko took a sip himself after letting out a weary sigh. Soldiers were soldiers no matter where they came from. The two opted to watch the pretty airman- airwoman? whatever the fuck- from this morning shark the hell out of some Dutch captain at the pool table.

Leaning over she easily sank the 8 ball by banking it off the far bumper to end the game handily.

"Nice shot!" Sokka shrank in his seat as his exclamation of approval came out much louder than expected.

The woman looked up and regarded them both with cool suspicion, relaxing slightly when it was obvious that Sokka wasn't heckling. She exchanged a firm handshake with the Dutch guy and looked like she was going to head their way before Jeter closed in on an intercept course.

"Hey." The rakish bastard gave her his best smolder as he stroked the pool cue in his hands. "The name's Jeter. Want to play a little?"

She seemed a little taken aback but still gave him a once over. "I'm Suki and… not really."

Obviously getting ready to brush past him, Jeter stepped into her path. "Suki," he said slowly, as if savoring it on his tongue. "That's a cute name."

Oh shit.

To her credit, Suki looked ready to explode for only half a millisecond before she batted her big blue-green eyes coquettishly at Jeter. "You know what? I've changed my mind. Let's try a new game. We can play for drink tickets!"

Jeter turned to flash Sokka a little smirk. "Sure. We can play with whatever you like."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Excellent! You won't be needing this!" Suki plucked the cue from a surprised Jeter's hands and deposited the cue in the wall rack behind Zuko's head. "We _are_ gonna need some ground support!" She descended on the seated pair.

"You're on Jeter's team!" she said, giving Zuko a shove in the other soldier's direction.

Sokka let himself be dragged from his bar stool. "You can be my partner." Suki's purr of triumph was setting off all sorts of warning bells.

He should have listened.

----

All smiles, Suki retrieved the white cue ball from green felt, empty except for one other ball, and took her position at the far end of the table. Jeter eyed her furtively, doing a piss poor job trying to mask his alarm.

The game was… unique. Its convoluted rules took a little getting used to but that wasn't the interesting part.

"Ready?" she asked sweetly.

Jeter's tongue snaked out as he licked his lips. "Yup." He sounded much more confident than he looked.

With a hard slide, Suki released the cue ball and backed away as it hit the target ball on Jeter's side. Grabbing the bumper, Jeter flung himself bodily to retrieve the white ball as it ricocheted wildly around the table. Setting off at a sprint, he positioned himself at the short end of the table and released the white ball again, desperate to either sink the target ball or keep it moving. The target ball missed a side pocket by a narrow margin, sending Jeter careening around the table once more. Too involved in his goal, he failed to notice Suki sliding into position.

With no warning, she violently hip checked Jeter into the table, hitting him hard enough to force the entire table to shift a few inches with the impact. The colored target ball lurched pathetically to a halt as Jeter curled in on himself to cradle his thigh that was already bruising a shade to match all the others he had received so far this game.

"Oh. So sad," Suki pouted in mock concern. "You're all out of lives. And Zuko's only got one left. Looks like your team's in a bit of a bind." She flashed Sokka a winning smile. "You're up to receive!"

Sokka rose and positioned himself at the table with trepidation.

Rolling the cue ball in his palm, Zuko glanced up at him. "Ready?"

All Sokka could do was nod.

Zuko tested the cue ball's glide against the felt a few times. Sokka tunneled on the pale hand, vaguely hearing an uproar as the ball was released.

All of it directed behind Sokka's back.

His competitive streak made him ignore the cat calls, focusing on that goddamned cue ball. It wobbled erratically, missing the target ball completely. His brain whizzed through the mad rush of rules from the beginning. Zuko uncharacteristically whiffed his serve, losing his last life, meaning Sokka's team had just won.

Right?

The furor continued as the Australians cheered in appreciation.

What? What the hell was going on?

Looking up, he saw Zuko gawping like a fish out of water. Jeter looked a rare combination of shocked and impressed. Doing a wild spin, Sokka caught Suki putting the final touches on stuffing the front of her shirt back into her pants.

Cupping her breasts, she did that weird shimmy that girls did when messing with their underwear, shifting her bra back into place after its recent disruption.

"_That_ is how you play this game." With that, the pretty little pilot with her handful of newly earned drink tickets was gone, gone, gone.

-------------------

A/N and not one whining about reviews this time. For those who are interested the game described is a real game and it's fucking awesome even if you play the non-combat version. http:// .org/wiki/Crud_(game)


	16. Chapter 16

Warning: This section contains descriptions of racist language, violence and child abuse.

A/N This chapter has me quite nervous for several reasons. Please do not take this story as political commentary, merely a continuation of my transitioning ATLA's story to a more realistic setting.

* * *

Getting into Afghanistan had gone fairly smooth. The first month at their new FOB outside Kabul wasn't so bad. Two weeks patrolling the mountains of Tagab Valley with only the occasional mortar attack was actually decent. Much better than the horror stories that had been going around. Sniper fire and IEDs everywhere. Yeah, Sokka thought they were pretty damn lucky.

One thing that was an extra helping of awesome was the end of their patrol mission meant that they got to help out with a big village medical operation in the small town of Sarobi. Everyone wanted to get in on the feel-good stuff: handing out school supplies, bringing in medical teams to treat the sick and helping vaccinate kids for shit like polio that still devastated so many in the area.

It had been an early morning start as they packed themselves into vehicles like sardines, their convoy making the wooden bridges creak and groan under the strain of their load. The air was already sizzling hot as the village filled with homes made of mud and brick got closer and closer. Curiosity brought locals out in droves to line the road as the military vehicles passed in some sort of bizarre green parade. Quick talk to the village elders and the guys got to work.

Sokka fumbled with the weight of a massive container. "Hey terp!" he shot over one shoulder as Zuko fell in to render aid. "Where should we set up?"

Their interpreter Najib was a funny little guy, smart as a whip with hands that flitted like a bird when he talked. "To be over here, please yes! Books and things for the young ones!" he said, arms moving as if preparing for takeoff. He flapped a few words at the waiting residents, parents drawing their children close to clear space.

It didn't take long. Sokka broke open crates of notebooks and was overwhelmed within seconds. Kids swarmed Zuko like hungry ants, cries of /Qalam! Qalam!/ as they clamored for a pen, too impatient to wait as he passed them out one by one. It was shame that Sokka would never dare tell Zuko how adorable he looked at that moment, his face a mish mash of fear and delight at the crush of eager faces.

One of the few girls present was all bright and brave in her frilly orange dress, holding her hand high to stand her ground against the mob scene. Zuko went on tip toes to reach over the heads of the more aggressive boys to present it to her. She snatched it out of his hand like it was made of gold and smoothly extricated herself from the press of small bodies.

An elder, his skin thickened and dark from decades of life in the sun, closed in on the girl. His tone was all gruff and reprimanding as his massive bulk loomed over her. The little girl shrank back; face crumpling like wadded up paper as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She held up her pen as an offering to appease this man so clearly ready to bring down his wrath upon her. His meaty fingers enveloped her wrist, that rigid grip easily snapping her tiny forearm if he wanted to. The old man gave her a violent shake as he continued his tirade.

"_Leave her alone_!"

Every eye turned to Zuko. If he felt any hint of embarrassment at his outburst, he didn't show it. Instead he was wound up hard and tight, ball of white hot fury ready to go supernova.

Silence washed over the crowd, Zuko's anger forceful enough to punch through any language barrier.

Every nerve, every muscle demanded that Sokka _move_, get to Zuko, talk the man down or something incredibly bad –'holy mother of god, international clusterfuck, wind up in prison after a speedy court-martial' bad- was going to happen. He desperately tried to wade through the hands that still clung to him but it was like swimming through a bunch of jellyfish.

Their terp was already on his fee, glory to Allah. He hustled to insert himself between the two, neither prepared to back down. A little rapid fire Pashto back and forth by the two Afghani men and the old bastard gave Zuko a brazen look of contempt before releasing the girl and retreating in disgust.

Najib let out his high pitched nervous laugh as he gave his best shot at cooling off the riled up soldier. "Haha! So sorry Mister Army. The ancient ones… they get stuck in the ways of the old times, like a cart in the spring mud. No teachings for girls back then. Even today, not so good. But we help them now, right? High five, eh?" Zuko ignored the man's chatter, blind to everything except the flash of orange disappearing with her precious pen.

After a few minutes it was if nothing had happened. The children resumed clamoring for books and stickers. It was only Sokka that stayed worried, noticing the overly controlled lack of emotion, Zuko's body rigid and mechanical is it went about its duties.

With a long day still ahead of them, it would have to wait.

* * *

Both Zuko and their staff sergeant looked highly skeptical when Sokka volunteered Zuko and himself to sit in the rear of their freshly emptied supply truck. It meant more room for the guys up front and if it gave them a chance to talk then so much the better. The staff sergeant shrugged it off but Sokka could feel a gold honey glare boring into the back of his head.

They were only a few uncomfortable couple of miles into their long way back to their FOB when Sokka decided that the vehicle was designed by an engineer who obviously hated all mankind with a passion. He moved to the floor of the truck once the jump seat turned his ass into a sweaty lifeless lump of flesh. After a few minutes, Zuko joined him there without a word.

It was disconcerting to watch Zuko tip his head back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. Sokka snuck in a feather light touch to Zuko's chin, the only expanse of skin not covered by thirty pounds of armor. The reaction it evoked was a long time coming.

A sob dry as old parchment. "I've… never told anyone," Zuko rasped as something terrible twisted up inside him, thrashing to escape. He grabbed at Sokka's wrist, pressing the man's fingers to his face like a child clutching at a blanket. "I can't."

"Whenever you're ready." Sokka managed to run his thumb along that full bottom lip. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered soft as anything.

The wait was long and agonizing but then…

Word by word it clawed its way out.

----------------

_Upper East Side, NY, 2004_

_Zuko peeked into __his uncle__'s office. Flood of relief at Iroh's absence, then feeling guilty about it. __He tried to squash that guilt down with a mental admonition that sounded way too much like his father. Not too difficult since the man drilled it into Zuko's head enough times in real life. The ends justified the means. And if you thought they didn't then you probably didn't deserve to have those ends in the first place. _

_Uncle _had_ said that his nephew was __welcome__ to use this __office__ any time he liked__ so technically Zuko wasn't deceiving anyone if he used its computer to hack into Kai's corporate network. He was almost 16. Surely showing some initiative in understanding how the business operated would make his father proud even if it did feel an awful lot like snooping._

_It didn't help that he'd gotten some tantalizing hints during his last visit home from boarding school. His__ curiosity __ate__ at him like a living thing__ so he fed it by reading every news source he could find__. Some__thing big__ kept his father shuttling back and forth to __the war torn __Middle East __and this morning was Zuko's chance to finally find out what it was._

_The massive tower on the __ornately carved__ mahogany desk lit up like a Christmas tree__ as he mashed the power button in his rush__. C'mon, c'mon. Zuko knew the thing was top of the line. Why wasn't it booting up__ any__ faster? __ He reached to turn on the dark monitor but his reflection caught him off guard. He tugged at the purple sleep deprived crescent that stood out starkly against otherwise smooth pale skin surrounding his left eye. God. If he didn't get some rest it would be completely obvious he was up to something._

_D__ing. _Finally!_ His fingers clattered over the keyboard fast as lightning. Not too surprising that Uncle's passwords all __stayed __the same. The files were pretty innocuous __at first glance__. __It was just dumb luck that he opened this particular folder at all. What he found made him vaguely nauseated as he dug deeper._

_I__t read like a shopping list. Key figures involved in the upcoming Iraqi elections were __listed as targets. Some were easily recognizable from his hours feeding his news addiction, some were unknown to him__.__ The document included all possible repercussions if that target just _happened _to be assassinated, good and bad. It outlined succinctly just what laws would need to be dodged if one were considering committing such an act of violence. __There was even a __little chart__ that had the risk to benefit ratio laid out in neat columns and rows with footnotes __suggesting__ how __someone could best make any incidents look like the work of local insurgents if that was something they somehow happened to need to do._

_He lost track of time as the report went into details on how any unrest affected Kai as a company. The tidy conclusion was that strife was good for business and if the region stayed destabilized it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. _

_It couldn't be real. Was it just some desk jockey's fucked up idea of a joke? _

_The __unexpected __chirp of a cell phone __nearly made him fly out of his chair__. __Someone was too close. __Backing out of the system, Zuko shut the tower down in a hurry. __It was a fight to keep down his panic as he tried to remember the best route of escape. He eased out of the office and slid the door shut as softly as he could._

"_Zuko."_

_His heart leapt into his mouth as he spun around. It__ was Li – or maybe Lo, he was never quite sure which of his father's creepy secretaries was which. "Your father requests you join him in the firing range."_

_Oh. _

_Really? _

_Zuko was not claustrophobic but he hated that underground bunker with a passion. __He tried to__ hide his__ shudder in front of the old bat__.__Mustn't show weakness. She would be sure to report any sign, any hint and Zuko would be just as sure to hear about it later. Showing _fear _in front of an employee? Unthinkable._

_He tried to puzzle out the purpose of this summons as he navigated his way to the bowels of the building. Access to the firing range had always been highly restricted. Of course both he and his sister had been taught to shoot as soon as they could walk and talk but they were never permitted to even look at some of the highly advanced and -in New York- highly _illegal _weapons that filled the armory. Enough firepower to stage a coup in a small African nation. It had taken a fortune to build and an even bigger fortune to keep its existence secret. _

_The guard was completely nonplussed at Zuko's arrival, handing over ear and eye protection without comment. The noise was astonishing even through the protection. The weapon his father held to his shoulder looked more like a cannon than a rifle, running through round after round faster than Zuko could count. He tried not to squirm as he waited for his father to acknowledge his presence. _

_Once the distant wooden figure was in splinters, his father was satisfied enough to set the unwieldy rifle on the table by his side with great care. He pulled his ear protection away and signaled his son to do the same._

_"What have you been up to lately, Zuko?" his father asked, in his almost conversational way that usually meant very bad things. _

_Fuck. He _knew_. How? Zuko was sure he had been _so _careful. But his father was several steps ahead. As usual._

_"I...I've been doing research. About Kai." The flush crept up Zuko's neck, equal parts annoyance at his stammer and embarrassment at getting caught._

_His father no longer bothered to hide his disgust. "Boy, your sloppiness could have left our system open to intruders. Do you know how many years of hard work you put at risk?" The man gave a disappointed sigh. "What I don't understand is how Iroh was misguided enough to help you..."_

_"Uncle has nothing to do with this!" They were both a little taken aback at Zuko's vehemence. "I got into the system on my own! Doesn't matter. All I saw was a bunch of junk." _

_The suspicion was clear in his father's eyes. "What do you think you found?"_

_"A load of theoretical garbage." Flashes of the report he'd found went through Zuko's head. "It sounded like we were figuring out who to kill to make sure the war in Iraq wouldn't end." For the first time in his life, Zuko prayed for his father to call him a fool as he so often did._

_Ozai took his time responding. His slow footfalls reverberated off the concrete walls. He paused to direct his attention out of the small section of bullet proof glass through the room's only door. His voice was neutral, measured. Like he was fielding questions from the press. "Those reports were purely theoretical. Kai is not currently in a position strong enough to act on any of that."_

_Zuko couldn't help himself. "But that makes it sound like you'd do it if you could!"_

_Anger cracked through Ozai's cool exterior shell. __"__There has been war in the Middle East for millennia. If things settle down these towelheads will start making nuclear weapons. What would you have me do? Do you want to see your world wiped out in a cloud of radioactive dust?"_

"_Wh.. what? No!" Zuko stumbled back as his skin prickled as if sensing an approaching lightning strike. "Wuh.. we don't know that's what would happen!" he babbled. "We shouldn't be the ones that make the decision for them!"_

_Hard backhand to his cheek sent Zuko falling, safety glasses flying from his face. The table with its rifle was the only thing to break his fall. He hissed as his hand passed too close to the still blazing hot muzzle of the ridiculously large gun. Short of breath, he didn't resist as his father grabbed his arm, twisting it behind Zuko's back, hovering just below the breaking point._

_"Oh, Zuko." Ozai's voice was wistful as he applied more torque to Zuko's forearm. "Our family has worked for generations to put ourselves in a position to make this world a better place. It all comes down to being able to make the hard decisions. And you just don't have the guts to make them." _

_Zuko couldn't stop trembling, standing on his toes to try to relieve some of the pressure in his shoulder. It was futile against his father's height. _Breathe!

_His father sounded distant, almost distracted. "Maybe your mother coddled you too much. Maybe I need to toughen you up a little. Maybe then you'll understand."_

_"Dad! Don't!" Zuko's panic was threatening to steal his voice. "_Please!_" His gut tightened before the word finished leaving his mouth. _Idiot_! Groveling like a coward! He closed his eyes tight, trying to will this all away._

_Fingers closed in on the back of Zuko's neck, pressing him inexorably down, down against the scalding heat that still radiated off dull blackened steel. He could feel his cheek begin to blister before it even touched his skin. His father pushed him further still._

_The pain. _

_Oh. Oh god. _

_The pain._

_After a few seconds it had felt otherworldly, like he was watching it happen to someone else, being done by someone else. The smell of charred flesh had tortured him for _weeks though_, so intense he could taste it no matter how many times he asked Uncle to help wash his hair. No one pressed him for a reason why when he asked the nurses to shave his head bare. They had thought it peculiar but accepted his suggestion that it would make his frequent bandage changes easier without question. _

_Sometimes on rare occasions even years later the scent of cooking meat would bring the burn of bile rushing to the back of his throat. _

_By law he was still a minor and his father was the one who made his medical decisions. No treatment beyond the bare minimum. There was no government agency, no child protective services to intercede. With the right amount of money in hand, they all turned a blind eye. The investigation called it an accident. Kids did stupid stuff all the time. _

_Nothing to see here. _

_Given enough time it stopped mattering to anyone. As soon as he was able, Zuko was packed off to finish off boarding school, then university with few opportunities to return home._

_And then there had been the last straw. School friend- and on rare occasions more than a friend- had turned up looking devastatingly handsome in his bid to boost Zuko's spirits one spring break. They'd grabbed coffee and sat together in Central Park talking about this and that. It led to a small kiss, a simple kiss. _

_One would think that with the number of faces in Manhattan that such a little thing would remain anonymous but no. His sister had found out about it with her magical spying powers and told their father. Ozai had called his son before him to hear the truth of the matter. Oddly it was Zuko's tears of frustration that seemed to anger his father more than anything. 'Pathetic' his father had called him as if this were the worst insult imaginable. _

'_Weak.' _

_The idea that his father wanted him to cut off all ties to his family was simply devastating to Zuko. Then his uncle had suggested something that surprised all of them. _

_What about enlisting? _

* * *

Tagab Valley, now

Once Zuko's story was over, the tears came.

The two men sat in the back of that truck as it made its way home, holding each other as closely as an inch and a half of Kevlar would allow.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N Again, this is **not** political commentary just reinterpreting aspects of ATLA in a more realistic setting. Please consider leaving a comment. Praise, critique, anything. They help me greatly. Thanks to everyone who has done so in the past. The next chapter is lighter I swear!

Warnings for violence and racial slurs as well as swearing.

----------

It was hard. So goddamned hard. Trying to cling to a little piece of your own humanity to keep from going crazy when you were under fire, every inch of you covered in mud and sweat and _don't_ even _think_ about what else with no way to get clean.

After the first week or two you kinda pushed it into the back of your mind. Showers meant water and water was a luxury when you were out in the field sometimes for days on end with just the pack on your back. You needed to get Zen about it or you lost a tiny bit more of what little mind you had left.

The sigh of resignation Sokka let out got shoved out of the way by a yawn, which he hastily covered. The past five weeks – _five weeks_- had all been the same; checking locations that the word on the street said held explosives. The tension had been unrelenting. No slip ups permitted, sir, no sir.

He tried to shake off his exhaustion, shooting a sideways glance at his squad to see if he'd been spotted. Any attempt at being subtle vanished with the eruption of a loud snort that escaped him at the sight of Zuko cutting off a yawn of his own. Blinking furiously, Zuko looked like he was keeping himself upright through pure determination. Even Jeter looked ragged as he trailed behind them, eyes bloodshot and grim, face caked with grit.

This day needed to be done. _Soon_.

The only thing that kept them going was the promise that the last of today's business was truly their last for a little while, ending up at Camp Phoenix for a few weeks of some sorely needed downtime.

Looking up dark, heavy clouds hung in the sky waiting for them. Rain was not their friend. It came down in sheets, turning everything into a river of mud in seconds, slowing their progress down to nothing. In another month they got to look forward to 'the winds of 120 days'. Sounded kinda pretty if you didn't remember that the weather in this country tending to be more like a good hard kick in the balls. In Dari, they called it _shomali_, which meant 'wind that fucks your shit up _real _good'.

_That_ was more like it.

Weird looking building that was their target came into view, a bizarre mishmash of mud bricks and scavenged plywood completely atypical for the region. It wasn't much to look at but their intel said it held some surprises. And not the good kind.

They settled into position easily after weeks of routine. Jeter _had_ to be the first one in, of course. When asked why, he would answer with some feel-good nonsense about duty and protecting his fellow soldier, but that was complete bullshit. There was something else, a weird light in the man's eye that Sokka prayed he imagined when he caught sight of it in their first real firefight. Satisfaction. _Glee_.

Bit by bit it degenerated over time. It was getting more commonplace to see Jeter do some absurdly risky shit as if he _wanted_ to be a bullet magnet just so he could have a reason to fight back. When Sokka tried talking to the staff sergeant about it, the asshole didn't notice or didn't want to notice, calling Jeter 'courageous' and 'heroic' rather than the terms that seemed more representative like 'psycho' or 'nutjob'.

Focus. There was work to be done.

Zuko bashed the door in with a well placed swing of their favorite little sledgehammer. They hit the building hard, running on instinct and what muscle memory their tired bodies could offer.

The whole place was goddamned joke, empty except for two pudgy guys with one piece of shit gun. Instead of being fully armed they were fully loaded, caught smoking it up in a back room covered in the stink of _hashish_. The job of watching the well baked pair fell to Longshot, who didn't seem to care about it one way or the other.

This didn't feel right at all. Their intel usually wasn't _this_ far off. Why leave guards if there was nothing to guard and totally inadequate guards at that? Sokka had Zuko follow him through the house one more time before it hit him. There was a missing room. Not like 'ran away' missing. More like 'most houses don't violate the laws of time and space' missing. He mapped out the interior which narrowed it down quite a bit. Zuko gave him a hand literally, finding the hidden seam by feel.

This was all kinds of fucked up. While the rest of the house was flimsy, this construction was solid. Well made. Weathered to look as cheap as the rest of the place. Even knowing something was there, it was hard to make out. They stared at each other with trepidation, not sure what –or who- to expect inside their phantom room.

"Bunch of pussies!" Jeter shoved them aside, brandishing the abandoned sledgehammer. Splintering wood almost covered Zuko's shout of "Are you out of your goddamned mind?"

No hail of bullets. At least that was something.

Showing no fear, Jeter strolled into his brand spanking new entryway before faltering, nearly dropping his Maglite as he got a good look inside. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Following behind a little more cautiously, Sokka could only echo the sentiment.

Ammonium nitrate, bag after bag after bag. Fertilizer that had a nasty habit of going boom. Illegal to import into the country since the previous year and enough here for hundreds of homemade bombs. Newly arrived if the lack of dust was any indication. Not like there was a weekly maid service for this kind of thing.

Well, _fuck_.

It took them hours to carefully strip the room bare, radioing in for help from the Afghani forces to help confiscate it all.

Sokka backed into the hallway, mind still reeling. Did they miss this anywhere else? No. They had been thorough and none of the other places they had searched looked anything like this weird gumbo of a building. He dragged open his canteen for a much needed sip of water and spotted Longshot carting out a crate of detonators. "Hey. Who's taking care of Harold and Kumar?"

The man barely paused, his normally stoic expression growing unexpectedly cloudy. With a curt shake of the head, he was gone.

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean? God, he needed a Longshot dictionary. So some other sucker was taking care of the prisoners? Curiosity piqued, Sokka navigated his way back through the building's deceptive layout. Hmph. He hadn't seen Zuko in a while and there was time to kill. Nothing much left to do until backup arrived so if the guy got stuck babysitting then maybe he would like some compan…

"Turn around."

Sokka froze midstride. Was that Jeter? The voice had come from the holding area in any case. Must be a mistake though. No _way_ would the silver tongued bastard would have gotten stuck doing something menial like watching two useless prisoners.

There was a whimper of terror that ended with the dull thud of a punch.

"I said 'turn around' ya fuckin' raghead!" The voice was soft and full of menace. Jeter. No mistake this time.

_Shee-iiit_.

Bringing his rifle to bear, Sokka tiptoed closer, hoping his stomach would stop doing little cartwheels. Sounded like somebody was going to need help. Just not quite sure which somebody that was supposed to be. Deep breath here, dumbass. Big wave coming in and you gotta dive through it or you're gonna get swept off your feet.

Putting on his best game face, Sokka strolled in keeping all sweetness and light. "Hey Jeter! How's it goin'?"

He didn't add what he really wanted to say. Oh, and by the way, is it me or does it look like you're about to shoot two unarmed men in the back?

"You shouldn't be here Sokka." He watched Jeter try to moisten his lips with a flash of nervous tongue. "You should walk away."

Well.

Guess it's _exactly_ what it looks like.

Okay, okay. Keep him talking. "Walk away from what?"

"DON'T!" The man's sudden fury echoed loudly off of bare walls. Jeter's face shifted like a tide pool, turbulent to serene in the blink of an eye. "Just. Don't. I know you're not stupid."

Dear god.

"C'mon, man." It was hard for Sokka to keep the waver out of his voice. "These guys are harmless."

"You call the shit in that room _harmless_?" It didn't help that Jeter's eyes never wavered from his targets even as his hands started shaking. "These fuckers want us _dead_. Don't see why we shouldn't take them out _first_."

Sokka couldn't restrain himself. "This house has been totally different from every other one we've hit since we came here! Something's not right!" Appeal to reason. "For fuck's sake, who leaves two idiots here with only one weapon?" Damn it. Take it easy, idiot. He tried to go soft and pleading, feeling like he was trying to corral an injured animal.

Which maybe he was. "We need these guys –_alive_- if we're ever gonna get a chance to figure out what's going on here."

Jeter's broken laugh was excruciating to hear. "I grew up in Thailand. Did I ever tell you that?"

The abrupt change of topic forced the question out of him before he could think to stop it. "N…no. What?"

"Until I was eight." The man continued as if he hadn't heard a thing. Which maybe he hadn't. "Fucking separatists, bunch of savages for bombing a street fair. Just families and all these little kids running around. Including me." Eyes shuttering closed, Jeter let the past suck him in. "My parents were dead before the first ambulance had even arrived."

Oh.

"This won't bring them back!" Fuck, that came out much louder than intended but at least it got Jeter looking at him. Sokka tried to rein himself back in. "Don't do it. You're better than this. You know you are."

Please. _Please_ be better than this.

"You _bastard_." The muzzle of Jeter's rifle slowly sank to the floor, his shoulder's sagging. "How do you do that? How the fuck do you make me feel like a coward when _I'm_ the one with the gun in my hand."

Minutes passed. Was that it? Was it over?

Sokka hung his head; finally letting himself breathe. It didn't last long as a hand wrapped around his wrist. His vision was filled with Jeter, tears streaming down the man's face, wetness clearing a path through the layers of dirt on his cheeks.

"You're a lucky son of a bitch, you know that right?" Jeter said flat, sounding so dead, so hollow. "Both you and _him_. To have somebody that loves you even in this hellhole. Keeping you sane."

"What the hell's going on?"

Goddamnit Zuko!

Sokka felt his heart come close to exploding as the 'him' in question magically appeared with quite possibly the absolute _best_ and simultaneously _worst_ timing in the universe. He flexed his hand, testing his wrist once Jeter released him.

"Nothing." Jeter watched them coolly, words belied by his tear stained face. "Absolutely nothing is going on."

He slung his rifle across his back and left as if that had been his plan all along.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: For those that are interested, the version of this chapter with adult sexual situations is housed at my LJ. Slightly over 1000 word count difference.

------------

Camp Phoenix. Nowhere near as big as Bagram, it still did its best to make American and NATO forces feel welcome. Well, as welcome as being surrounded by ten feet of concrete and barbed wire could make anyone. After a grueling few months in the field it was a slice of heaven. Little villages with personalities that fit the nations that filled them. The French had cigarettes and their own Quarter, the Romanians had their beer hall. Of course at the heart of it all was what was most important.

Running water and a Dairy Queen.

It took a wide, flat swipe of the tongue across the back of his hand for Zuko to catch an errant spill of his rapidly melting ice cream. Damn it. He should have known he'd be too distracted to eat the thing fast enough in the heat. Ice cream cones weren't exactly something he was used to but he had hoped that Sokka would have been at least vaguely amused by watching him eat it.

No such luck. The visit to the ice cream parlor had all been part of a weak attempt to boost unusually somber mood that had clung to Sokka for days like a particularly nasty flu. It had started after their last mission before arriving at their new FOB. At that fucked up house.

Something had happened in that room with Jeter and neither man was talking.

With the failure of his DQ gambit, Zuko redirected Sokka to the on-base bazaar. It happened every other week and at least provided a change of scenery. Vendors tried their damndest to hawk pointy toed shoes and other trinkets. Children, great big flocks of them, flitted like hummingbirds through the carts and livestock with ease. Local schools couldn't hold them all so they attended in shifts, filling their time with games, eager to dodge chores at least for a little while.

He watched Sokka as the man absentmindedly stabbed a spoon into his brightly colored cup. In any other time and place Zuko would have been sure that the Tornado or Blizzard or whatever the hell thing Sokka had ordered would have been devoured in a heartbeat but here remained untouched.

It was a bit alarming to see, frankly. Like a crisis of faith.

They paused in front of a massive ox that impassively chewed its cud, not particularly minding kids hanging off of his horns as if he were a four legged jungle gym. Its fur was most likely white but was obscured by the dirty handprints of his playmates. Must have been a draft animal for one of the Kuchi, a dwindling population that brought their wool to market whenever their pastoral migration took them through Kabul.

"Thank you. Thank you for what you're trying to do."

Zuko looked up at these words to see small lines furrowed Sokka's brow as he stared intently at the ox's broad forehead, looking as if the words he was searching for would somehow be found there.

He looked old. Far older than he should.

His friend casually began to scratch a spot on the beast's tufted crown of brown fur to a rumble of approval. "There's something I can't get out of my head." His hand dropped to the animal's chin, causing the ox to obligingly lift its giant head, obviously familiar with what was required to get humans to pet it to its satisfaction.

"How different would we be right now if we didn't have each other? Watching each others' backs." Sokka closed his eyes, canting his head up to let the sun warm his skin, unintentionally mirroring the look of want on the animal before him. "If anything happened to you, I'm not sure what I would do."

Good god. _That_ was what consumed Sokka? Thoughts of injury or worse? And not for himself, but for Zuko? He felt a tangle of something worrisome start to twist in his core. _Don't_. Don't even _start_ thinking about _that_.

Snapping to attention as if waking from a dream, Sokka shot a panicked look at his watch. "Fuck, it's later than I though." Blue eyes were full of apology. "I gotta hit the phone room. Have to call the family and it'll be after midnight their time if I wait any longer."

"You don't have to explain. I have to patrol soon anyway. Go. _Run_." His heart quickened a little as Sokka flashed him a small smile of gratitude. First smile in a while.

The uneaten Blizzard was pressed into Zuko's hand before the other man took off at a sprint. The ox flicked an ear at the ridiculous human with drippy mess in one hand and neon blue cup in the other.

This was not good.

His rational mind was babbling at him. This happened to everyone. Himself included. Plague of fear and self doubt and what if's. It was inescapable that the weight of their duties would drag them down. But this was _Sokka_! The most vibrant, most alive person he had ever met.

It seemed impossible.

Uncle had warned of the dangers of living in a war zone. Stray thoughts when you were out here with too much time on your hands and harsh reality that threatened to crush your spirit. You _needed_ to press onwards no matter how hard it got or you'd just end up tied in knots, too paralyzed by the 'could be' to act on the 'right _now'_. Around here that could lead to very dead.

No way was he going to let that happen. Not to Sokka.

A very rough, very wet _thing_ enveloped his hand. He looked down to find the ox appearing quite pleased with himself as he made short work of the forgotten ice cream cone, leaving a long trail of saliva as thanks.

_Gross._

His revulsion rooted Zuko in place, horrified fascination making him stare at the patterns of ropes of spit clinging to his skin. A light, infectious laugh and a worn rag shoved at him got his brain moving again.

All scruffy and brown, the young boy looked like one of the Kuchi with rare gray eyes and an open smile that pretty much took over his face. "_Dalee, dalee_," said the boy, waving the rag with great insistence.

Zuko accepted it and ineffectually dabbed at the sticky residue as the boy made a great show of scolding the ox. "_Appa badláarey_!"he said with a waggle of a finger. The beast ignored this, too intent on cleaning out his own nostrils with his prehensile tongue with a placid calm.

It didn't take too long for Zuko accept that he needed a belt sander to remove the spittle rather than a rag and handed it back to the boy. After a moment's hesitation he handed over the plastic cup as well.

The boy sniffed the brightly colored contents with suspicion but wolfed down a spoonful soon enough. Astonishment rippled from the boy like a shockwave. "_Shúker_!" The word barely escaped the child's mouth before another spoonful then a third made speaking impossible.

Zuko offered a bemused "You're welcome" before turning back to the barracks, gears turning.

What the hell was he going to do?

----------------

Oof. Little bit windy today with some ugly looking clouds closing in. The locals warned them that the worst was yet to come.

Walking the streets of Kabul on presence patrol was enjoyable and nerve wracking at the same time. The work was usually done by National Guard folks but with Phoenix shorthanded, the duty fell to infantry for the time being. It let the soldiers meet locals one on one, make a connection that neither side would have had if the men stayed separated by the walls of their fortress.

Problem was it put a giant target on the soldiers' backs, making it difficult to relax fully as the men tried to show their human side.

Zuko sighed, wondering what he had done to deserve this particular brand of hell. Trapped with Jeter of all people, both of them forced to sit politely with a group of old men watching Indian soap operas on the tiniest of television sets.

Clearing houses was starting to look appealing right about now.

Trying to stretch without making his boredom too obvious, Jeter froze as something in the distance caught his eye. "What a waste of a great ass," he murmured, lips pursed in regret.

Following the man's line of sight, Zuko spotted of a slender figure moving swiftly, body almost completely obscured by head to toe black fabric. "She's wearing a _burqa_." Weird that it was a black one. The traditional Afghan ones were usually blue. "How the hell can you tell? It might even be a guy under there."

Jeter shot Zuko an eyebrow that clearly said "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Verbally he said, "It's definitely a chick. An athlete too. Just look how she moves. Covering that up is a goddamned criminal."

Zuko tried to look away, hoping the elders wouldn't notice Jeter's ogling. A distinctive expanse of white fur flashed off to his right.

Oh. It was that kid and his ox. Except was that…

Damn. Did somebody slip him some opium?

There was a rhesus monkey comfortably perched atop the ox, happily devouring a piece of fruit.

Of _course_ there was.

The Kuchi Doctor Doolittle dashed up to him, ox following the boy like a faithful dog with its furry passenger on top. "_Ay_!" The child dashed to Zuko's side, all excited to see the purveyor of frozen treats again.

"_Senga yai,"_ Zuko tried haltingly, hoping he wasn't macerating his Pashto too much.

The boy beamed at the more formal greeting, teasingly slapping the soldier's shoulder in approval. Glancing around furtively, the boy grew serious. He flexed his finger at Zuko, too clearly meaning "come with me" in any language.

Anything to escape watching the melodramatic weirdness that so fascinated the old Afghanis.

He rose and too the boy to one side. Reaching into his satchel, the kid produced a jagged piece of black metal holding it reverently as he presented it to Zuko for examination.

"Who's your little friend?" Jeter asked as he joined them, no longer interested in pretending to watch TV.

"A kid I met." Zuko turned the metal over and over in his hands. Scorch marks on one side, warped in spots.

Curiosity made Jeter lean in closer. "Is that a munitions fragment?"

It was a weird looking thing, not quite fitting any shells or bombs that either of them had seen before. "I think so." Zuko rubbed at some caked mud that clung to the metal. There. You could barely make it out unless you knew what it was, so damaged by the explosion that had warped it.

An etched logo. A red circle with a very familiar tiny, highly stylized flame.

What the _fuck_?

Light rain began to fall. The old men scrambled to shield their precious TV set from the coming storm.

"Something wrong?" Jeter was all suspicion, noticing the other soldier hadn't taken a breath in a while.

Zuko shook himself and stuffed the piece into a side pocket of his uniform. Relax. This could have come from anywhere. "I don't know yet."

He looked up at the boy in all sincerity. "Thanks, kid." That brought out another huge smile that reached up to those big gray eyes.

Noticing the exchange, one old man began gesturing at the two soldiers wildly. "_Khayraatawem_!" He pointed at Zuko's pocket then at a beat up crate that sat partially obscured under a plastic tarp that did little to protect the crate from the rain. "Take trash! No need here!"

Not sure what to expect, Zuko gave a cautious nudge to the box with his foot. The wood was so rotten from long unprotected days outdoors that the standard issue chem lights that it contained were clearly visible. God, they were old school, back before the switch in styles back in '05. How long had they been there?

"This is bullshit. We're not garbage men." Jeter didn't try very hard to mask his annoyance. "What the fuck are we supposed to do with _that_?"

A small half smile tugged at the corner of Zuko's mouth.

"I think I have an idea."

"Where are we going?" Sokka resisted slightly at Zuko's insistent shoving.

"Don't ask. Just move."

They made their way to the chow hall which should have been empty at this late hour. But it most definitely was not.

Sokka's jaw hit the floor at the sheer number of people. They passed around sticks, bending them to get a good snap and giving them a vigorous shake. "What the hell is this?"

Zuko shrugged as if the answer was obvious. "Chem light rave."

The room went pitch black and someone somewhere started playing a track with a thumping soul pounding rhythm. In an instant there were bodies in motion, ethereal green trails following hands as they created ghostly patterns with their movement, anonymity of darkness freeing the soldiers from any hesitance in giving themselves over to the beat.

Staggering under the weight of a full grown man throwing himself across his back, Zuko relished the feel of a grin against his neck. The tickle of stubble as Sokka whispered words into his ear was even better.

"You're amazing."

------------

----------

A/N: If you care the words in Pashtun are

_Dalee_- Here _Badláarey_- bad _Shúker- _thanks_ Ay!- _informal hello _Senga yai-_ more formal greeting _Khayraatawem-_give away

The Kuchi are an endangered nomadic tribe that migrates between Pakistan and Afghanistan. I simply couldn't use the word nomad in the body of this chapter without wanting to slap myself for being too obvious. Sorry.


	19. Chapter 19

This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence, lots of swearing. This chapter killed me. I am posting this from _beyond the grave._ So I hope it doesn't suck.

If you don't like warnings that are spoilers, do not read the warning below.

Warning: This chapter contains character death. Also, I'm an asshole.

* * *

The shell fragment had an edge that was sharp and jagged, torn like paper. It was an interesting contrast to the flat section's machined smoothness. This surface gave the shell markedly superior range over the Army's M795. So said all the graphs neatly plotted out in the slick brochure that Kai had produced to showcase its new offering.

God. Did normal people know any of this crap?

Zuko carded his fingers through short, short hair, trying to gouge this information from his mind. Other guys probably talked about normal shit like football and girls with their dads. He suspected only his family had talked about munitions over holiday dinner.

The piece of stark black metal spun over and over again in his hands, occasionally pausing now and again to absently flex it between his fingers, as if this might somehow wring more information from it.

Not in use by any US or NATO forces, much to his father's annoyance. No way would Kai have been able to sell anything to Afghani forces without the Army giving them the green light. There would have been a paper trail. What little down time he had was spent digging through sources online which revealed nothing of value.

The recent upswing in IED attacks. The weird nitrate house. The shell. The timing was too coincidental. It had to mean something.

With his thirty minutes of allotted time long gone, Zuko gave up his seat at the internet kiosk and wandered into the mess hall with the shell fragment burning a hole in his pocket. He needed a new strategy, a revised plan.

What he _really_ needed was straight ahead, currently in the process of stuffing his face.

"Where've you been?" Sokka mumbled around a forkful of rice.

"Oh, nowhere." Zuko tried to keep casual through his small twinge of conscience. The shell's existence had not been kept secret per se, more of not wanting to bother the other man with something so trivial. He could feel the cold metal leeching heat from his skin even through the heavy cotton of his trousers. "Could I show you something?"

"Sure." Sokka stabbed at the seat across from him with his fork. "Whatcha got?"

Setting the piece down between them, Zuko sat at his designated chair, leg bouncing up and down in double time underneath the long table.

"Piece of a shell?" It was not surprising that Sokka continued to shovel forkfuls of dinner with one hand while flipping the object of scrutiny with the other.

Zuko nodded. "The big thing is this." He outlined the barely visible logo with his index finger.

"Looks kinda familiar. Who makes it?"

"My family's company." He didn't look up, too taken by the faint outline of three points of flame. "Kai."

Startling clatter from a metal fork hitting the table made Zuko look up in confusion.

Sokka looked… ill. Colorless and far too still. Except for his face. Emotion too innumerable to name and too snarled to untangle roiled just under the surface, on the edge of bursting through.

"What?" Zuko frantically searched for clues. "What's wrong?"

"You… your family owns Kai?" The question came out all broken. Sokka continued as he stared at nothing. "They used to be called Sozin Industries, didn't they?"

"It's been a while since it was called that but yeah." He shook his head uncomprehendingly as Sokka deflated. "Didn't you know that? I mean, I thought I…"

"My mom."

What?

"I told you my mom died while she was in the Army right?" The words seemed to drift from Sokka and settle between them like a fog. "Killed in a fire. An accident. Kinda stupid really. Section of her building up in flames because of some shitty electrical work." He watched blue eyes finally come back into focus as they fell on him. "Done by Sozin Industries."

No.

Zuko was standing, reaching across the table before he realized he was doing so. Chair tipped back precariously, Sokka almost hit the floor as he pushed himself away, struggling to create distance between them.

_No_.

"That's not me!" This came out much louder than expected, desperation making Zuko hoarse. It took all his willpower not to vault the table right there and then. "Sozin- gah- _Kai_ is not me!"

People turned to stare.

Zuko hated it, hated _this_. Couldn't go to him. Couldn't touch him. Ball up that frustration, pack it in tight. That at least was something familiar. "Please. I didn't…"

"I know." Sokka was gulping great big mouthfuls of air, not sounding that convinced. "I know. I just… I need some time to think." Few cautious steps backwards, then Sokka was off at a sprint, elbowing through the crowded dinner rush.

Had to let him go. Zuko sank back into his seat, defeat draining him to the point of collapse. His scar felt impossibly itchy and way too tight.

It hadn't felt like that in _months_.

Jagged piece of black metal sat on the table waiting for him. How foolish, how naive it had been to think that the thing was innocent, a piece of a puzzle, a bit of mystery. He should have known. Anything that bore the mark of his father would poison whatever it touched.

He should have known that better than anyone.

* * *

Zuko found himself sitting on the beat up old cot that was Sokka's in their little corner of the world. He had waited all through a long, sleepless night but there had been no sign of the other man's return. The whole squad had checkpoint duty today. Sokka would _have_ to come back to get his gear. He couldn't stay away forever.

"Hey Sokka, ready to go? Gotta pick up our wheels."

Simple question from Jeter had Zuko twisting awkwardly to face him. He would never feel comfortable turning his back on the man.

"Heh, it's you." Puzzled look on Jeter's face shifted quickly into a wide leer. "Guess couples really _do _start to look alike."

Zuko met the leer with a deep scowl and more venom than was admittedly necessary. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Whoa there, crabass! What, you guys have lover's spat or something?"

He was on his feet before he could stop himself, tossing Jeter against the wall. The skin on his knuckles tore easily as he struck again and again; bare fisted punches completely useless against a Kevlar vest but it didn't matter. Little bit of pain gave him something else to think about which was just _fine_. He could feel Jeter laughing at him underneath it all, stoking his fury.

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him away.

"Stop," Sokka murmured in his ear. "Please stop."

Zuko struggled against this, still running on instinct; anger blazing pure heat in the pit of his stomach.

Jeter tugged on the edge of his tactical vest as if shaking off a mere nuisance. "We're due at the checkpoint in less than an hour so we don't have time for you two princesses to kiss and make up." He made for the door but with none of his usual swagger. At the door jamb he turned and looked between them, face pinched with a hint of sadness. "Sorry if things aren't good between you guys but you gotta get your heads in the game or you'll be a liability."

The truth of his words stung them both, a drenching in icy waters.

No time for this now. They collected their gear and headed out.

-----------------

The wind was a tad brisk today. At just a mere 20 mph with 40 mph gusts, the sand felt like it would polish your face off. Still nowhere near the peak according to the Afghani forces they were working with today.

Squatting over his kit bag, Sokka muttered to himself as he searched desperately for eye protection. "C'mon, c'mon." He cursed himself for being so poorly prepared which he wouldn't have been if he hadn't been completely chicken shit and run like a coward last night. Run because he'd suddenly been ten years old again, seeing tears in his father's eyes for the first time and cursing a faceless company that suddenly had a face.

A pair of sunglasses appeared under his nose. He sat on his heels to see Zuko holding them out for him, resolutely avoiding eye contact. Sokka tried to brush them back. "These are yours." Please. Please look at me. I'm sorry I ran. "Aren't you going to need 'em?"

"It's fine." Zuko definitely did not sound fine. "If you're working street level you'll need them more. I'll be on the roof with Longshot."

Sokka accepted the glasses and snatched at Zuko's wrist before he could vanish, drawing the banged up hand to his lips. "Thank you." He offered the raw knuckles a light kiss and pressed the hand to his cheek, a simple act of veneration.

He looked up to see those honey-amber eyes looking right back. God! Those eyes! Mask slipping to reveal everything plain as day, a terrified jumble of disbelief and hope.

A polite cough made them both jump.

It was Longshot, scratching at the rough stubble on his neck as he looked everywhere and anywhere but at the two men huddled together.

Zuko let out a croak. "I have to go."

Sokka allowed the hand to slip away and rose, slowly gathering the remainder of his gear.

They had work to do.

---------

The German embassy in Kabul was a just a standard high risk target on a good day.

Today was not a good day.

It was a security nightmare when charity workers decided to distribute their goods to the needy. Problem was that there were way too many people in need. It was a miasma of German, US and Afghani forces which some goddamned fobbit thought would have been a public relations coup. Multinational units coming together in a show of solidarity! Helping the people of Afghanistan!

Uh huh. More like logistical cesspool.

The enthusiastic Afghani soldiers were so raw they were practically bleeding. The A and A's had come with very little training and zero experience. You couldn't fault them for it though. Nearly half the population of Afghanistan was under the age of fifteen for fucks sake. There weren't enough experienced Afghanis to go around.

Two checkpoints on either end of the embassy to inspect any vehicles or pedestrians entering the area with a few soldiers sprinkled on rooftops for good measure. The fully armed men surrounded by layers of concrete barriers looked totally at odds with children chasing after small dust devils that the winds spun through the streets.

Kids would be kids no matter where they were.

Sokka fiddled with the radio in his helmet. "Canyon 3-2 Bravo, this is Canyon 3-2 Alpha. How's it looking up there?" Longshot and Zuko had the best perspective out of all of them, perched on the highest building around.

His earpiece made Zuko's disembodied voice crackle with static. "A and A's at Checkpoint Romeo are looking a little nervous but otherwise all clear."

The square in front of the embassy was getting more and more packed. The charity had decided to hand out sweets to the little ones which attracted kids like ants. Sokka lost track of who was a new arrival and who was there for a second helping of handouts. It didn't help that the embassy still had its share of regular visitors. He felt like an ignorant jackass for wondering if some chick in a _burqa_ he kept seeing was the same person, or different women passing through from some Saudi delegation.

This fucking sucked.

Behind him, Jeter sounded vaguely amused, which was never a good thing. "Way to score big time, kid!"

The last thing Sokka would have ever, ever, _ever_ expected was Jeter to make nice with a local. Especially not this cherubic, scruffy looking kid with arms full of candy. For a bonus 'what the fuck?' - a monkey wrapped around the kid's head holding onto some seriously big ears like a set of handlebars.

"Friend of yours?" Sokka asked, not quite sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Friend of Zuko's actually." Jeter held out a hand to the monkey, who gave his finger a hesitant sniff.

"_Wézzey_?" The doe eyed kid offered a handful of lollipops

No way could Sokka turn down some candy. He plucked a blue one from the assortment. Blue was always good. "Thanks!" Manners, Sokka, manners. He jutted a thumb at himself and proclaimed "I'm Sokka. And this…"-smacking Jeter on the arm -"Is Cockbag."

"Thanks, asshole!" came the swift retort.

Little kid laughed loudly. Guess swear words really _were_ the first thing everybody learned. The kid proudly pounded his own chest. "_Aang_."

Sokka gave his lollipop a twirl. "Thank you, Aang."

There was a small hum and Zuko's voice echoed oddly in stereo over both men's headsets. "Canyon 3-2 Alpha, I think Romeo's got a problem."

----------------

Zuko changed the focus on his binoculars. What was going on down at Romeo? Innocent looking minivan with a driver that didn't look like he enjoyed talking to anyone. Not a good sign.

There were screams of panic as the minivan gunned to life.

"Holy shit!" He resisted the urge to pull the binoculars from his face. The windscreen on the van was dirty as hell but it did little to disguise the driver's grim expression. Suicide bomber? " Longshot, you got that?"

Longshot settled his rifle against his shoulder. "Yup."

The vehicle barreled down the short stretch of road, picking up as much speed as it could, heading straight for Checkpoint Romeo. The hapless soldier who stood in the van's path did little to slow it down as the driver plowed through anyone in his way.

Oh, fuck. "Do it."

Single shot. Windscreen crumpled in a spider web of glass. Driver slumped over the wheel as the van slowed to a halt just before smashing through Romeo. Afghan soldiers descended on the van as the civilians around them fled in terror.

Zuko let out a puff of air. Goddamn. Was that it? Or was there more?

----------------

Street level was bedlam. They were going to have a stampede on their hands.

Jeter picked the little kid up like a toy and tossed him under their Humvee. "Stay there and don't fuckin' move until I tell you to!"

The throaty rumble of motorcycles reached Sokka's ears. Something small and speedy was a favorite for suicide attacks. There shouldn't have been any of them anywhere near the embassy. People trying to escape or more bombers?

"3-2 Bravo! Talk to me!" Sokka hollered into his mouthpiece. "Are there more vehicles on the move?"

"Looking, looking! Can't pin 'em down!" No surprise. Echo off of walls made it difficult and there were just too many side streets to choose from. The strength of mob panic could have taken down any of the physical barriers on any street.

Then there they were. Two men astride a pair of beat up Yamahas, so desperate to continue their botched attack that they didn't bother to disguise the wires and packs of C4 under their clothes.

Jesus goddamned motherfucker.

Sokka tried to get a clear shot but the press of bodies swarming past him knocked him down and kept him down in their insane flight to safety. Trying their damndest to outrun a bomb.

It happened so fast.

Engines throttled up and the riders headed almost straight for the Humvee, people diving out of their way. Jeter was somehow still on his feet, uselessly screaming in English for civilians to get down.

One bike teetered wildly as its rider's scalp exploded in a mist of red, stalling out as soon as the throttle was dropped by lifeless hands.

Holy shit, Longshot.

The other bike was way too close. Sokka tried to get a shot from the ground but an old woman tripped over his legs at precisely the wrong time. It put a hole in the gas tank and nothing more.

Jeter stood fast, fearlessly facing down the moving bomb racing towards him. Took his shot. Rider flew back, bleeding freely from where his throat used to be. Bike was way too big and way too close. No time to react. The riderless vehicle skidded out, 400 pound beast catching Jeter in a crushing sweep.

Fuck.

Forcing himself to his feet, Sokka got to the Humvee, grabbed the medical kit and ran to the prone body pinned underneath the motorcycle. "Aang! Help me!"

Terrified kid was at his side in a heartbeat. "One… Two… Three!" Together they shifted the bike. There was a low moan from Jeter as he drifted back into consciousness.

Sokka tried to keep calm as he spoke into his helmet's mouthpiece. "This is Amaruq, need a medic at the German embassy right NOW!"

The crowds were still moving like a herd of wildebeest that smelled a lioness on the prowl. No way to assess Jeter out here. Gesturing to the boy, they lifted Jeter as gently as they could and moved him to a quieter side street.

A weak cough brought fresh blood to Jeter's lips. "What the fuck did I drink last night?" he croaked.

"Man, you need better jokes." Sokka hoped he looked more confident than he felt as he dumped the contents of his medical kit. "Try not to talk. Help's on its way."

The injured man's breathing was shallow; pulses and color were pure shit. Splenic rupture? Pneumothorax maybe? Hard to tell. Jesus. Need to start a line.

Surge of wind blew the wrapped catheter from his hands. "Fucking wind!" He screamed at the clouds as he lunged after the tumbling wrapper in desperation. "You're not helping, y'know!"

Sokka tore the bag of fluids open with his teeth as he tried to keep his bandaging material from flying away. He wished he had more hands. Maybe he did. "Hey Aang, can you hold this…"

What the hell?

Kid was not listening. Well, not listening to _him_ at any rate. Aang was glancing at the sky in all seriousness, head cocked as if the howling wind was singing him a song. It seemed like he heard whatever he needed to hear, because the kid gave a small nod and clapped his hands together in a huge wave of his arms.

There was a high pitched ringing in Sokka's ears at the sudden silence.

The wind. The wind had dwindled down to nothing for the first time in _weeks_.

Finally. Some luck.

He swabbed Jeter's forearm in a hurry, wracking his brains for distant memories on how to place a goddamned catheter. Aang tapped furiously on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. Couldn't be that important.

"Oh, Zuzu." A woman's voice; far too close for his liking.

Not _now_! Focus on this! Advance catheter. Flash of blood. _Yes_!

"You always have to be so _difficult_." It was her American accent that made him pause, more so than the voice thick with derision.

He should have been paying attention. Black _burqa_, same style from this morning. God damn it fuckfuckfuck.

She wasn't bothering to look at him, unfamiliarity with her outfit causing her difficulty in removing her veil. You could see pale Japanese features, oddly aquiline nose. Who the fuck was this?

"Can't even manage to get yourself blown up properly. But I _suppose_ it's a challenge to find _smart_ suicide bombers. It's just _so_ hard for a girl to find good help these days." She sighed as she shook out her long black hair. "At least the little munchkin is here with you. Makes my job a lot easier."

Her words made no goddamned sense.

The pulse under his fingers was getting weaker. _Fuck_. Stay on task. He pulled the stylet out of the catheter and threw the saline wide open. "Look lady, I don't know what brand of crazy you're selling but I think we got all the crazy we need right now, thanks."

His earpiece screamed at him. "Sokka! Where the fuck are you?" Zuko sounded like he was trying very hard not to panic.

She finally focused on him, shockingly familiar honey-amber eyes stabbing at him with such unfamiliar hate. When she spoke it was in more of a snarl. "You!"

God she was fast. Like a goddamned pit viper. He barely saw her move before he was looking down the muzzle of a Beretta.

You know, maybe it was all those action movies that he had watched growing up that made him think that people were supposed to see their lives flash before their eyes when they died. He should have known his brain would be firing off a bunch of random shit like, wow, that gun makes this girl's hands look really tiny. Or he was going to be super pissed that he was going to miss Katara's graduation. Or how he was angry at himself that he hadn't ever told Zuko he loved him.

Stupid. Now I'm never going to get the chance.

The bang was big and loud and he couldn't keep from flinching even if there was nowhere to flinch. Felt like he had a ten ton weight smack him in the head. The world went a little grey around the edges and he flopped to the ground. Was he bleeding? Couldn't feel anything but the agonizing beat pounding inside his skull. Shit, he wanted to puke.

Savage blast of wind came up from nowhere, hard enough to rouse him a little. "No!" Psycho chick shrieked, cutting sharply into his haze. "Impossible!" Gun fired again and again until it ran out. Click-click-click.

Tried to get his eyes to focus. Hard to do. Hurt too much

Lady gone now. Good.

Hey… hey Aang. Go find Zuko pleasse.

whoa lookit little kid. iss he's flyin'?

haha thas pretty cool

mmm

sleepy

..

..

.

.

----------

Zuko couldn't stand it. He shifted in his seat, medical center waiting too small and much too cramped. It wasn't exactly built for visitors. Starving, exhausted and filthy- he wouldn't leave. He needed to see Sokka with his own eyes.

The aftermath of the botched attack had been pure mayhem. The little scraggly kid that called himself Aang had found Zuko in the thick of it somehow and helped lead the medics to the two fallen soldiers.

Jeter had been… too badly mangled. He arrested even as the medics tried to stabilize him but he was too far gone. There had already been talk of a posthumous medal. Who knows how many would have been killed if he hadn't taken out the final suicide bomber?

Then there was Sokka.

Big helmet felt heavy in Zuko's lap. He traced the huge crater of a dent just above the forehead. It had done what it was designed to do.

Stop a bullet. Save a man's life.

Doctors wouldn't let Zuko in Sokka's room just yet. Why would they? He was just another guy from the squad. Not like he was family or anything.

So he waited.

Zuko could hear the nursing staff whispering. Not too often they had a patient that survived a shot to the head. Where had it come from? Had to be small caliber since anything bigger would have gone through the helmet like tissue paper. Must have been at close quarters too. So Sokka got shot but the person hadn't managed to go for the kill. No one could explain it.

Add another unexplained item to the list.

Neuro was in the room now, checking their patient over again, testing for any long term effects.

God, when are they going to let me see him?

Someone cleared their throat.

"You're Private Amaruq's friend?" It was a young captain looking at him with a face of pure annoyance. "Come with me please. I've got tons of patients to look at today and I don't have time to deal with some dipshit private who refuses to cooperate because he's not permitted visitors."

Zuko could feel his pulse race in his ears as he followed in the captain's wake. Uncooperative Sokka was a normal Sokka, right?

Once back at the room, the captain scowled at the injured man who had propped himself up on a pile of cheap blankets. "Here he is. You have ten minutes." Turning on his heel, the captain shot a look of impatience over his shoulder. "If you don't let me examine you after that, the MP's come hold you down and you get a prostate exam. Got it?"

The doctor didn't bother waiting for an answer as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Hi," Sokka said thinly, face ashen, only bit of color was the giant bruise on his forehead. "I'd get up but I think I might hurl."

"If you try to stand, I'll shoot you myself."

Sokka gave a faint snort that turned into a wince. "Ahh, don't make me laugh."

"I wasn't joking." Zuko sat on the edge of the bed, too afraid to touch the injured man for fear of doing harm. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"A little. Maybe. I don't know." Blue eyes looked on the verge of tears. "It scares me."

"God' I'm an idiot," Zuko whispered, trying to keep it together. "You shouldn't be getting worked up right now. Wait until you're better."

"I don't want to wait!" Sokka grimaced as the sound of his voice echoed painfully in his own skull. "There's all these bits and pieces that keep coming to me. Like somebody sticking a gun in my face and regret for everything I wouldn't get to do in my life. It's what I don't know that frightens me." He shook under the weight of a dry heaving sob. "They said Jeter didn't make it. Did I do everything I could for him? How am I even still alive?"

"Please calm down! "

"No! I won't!" It was a struggle for Sokka to sit up but plain stubbornness got him through it. "No more regrets." He delivered a shaky kiss to Zuko's startled mouth. "I love you, you son of a bitch."

"_I_ love _you_, you crazy bastard." Zuko crushed the man to him as he said this and they both laughed through their tears. Deeper kiss this time, slow and careful. They stayed close, just to spend some time listening to each other breathe, remembering what it meant to be alive.

"I thought I'd lost you twice this week," Zuko murmured.

"Nah, you're not gonna get rid of me _that_ easily." Sokka sank back into his hospital cocoon. "You're too important to me."

"Enough deep thoughts for today." Faint smile from Zuko as he smoothed the fabric beside Sokka's face. "You need to rest. "

Door swung open as soon as the ten minutes were up. "Can I examine you now or do I have to go get the MP's?"

"No MP's." Sokka's eyes were locked on Zuko as he gave a lopsided grin . "I think we'll be fine now"


	20. Chapter 20

Gear spilled unceremoniously on the floor once Zuko sprawled out on his cot in full uniform, too weary to give a damn about his state of filth. 'Brutal' could not even begin to describe the pace of the past few days. The attack on the German embassy had been just the beginning. An IED took a heavy civilian toll at a busy marketplace, a car bomb taking out the entrance of a hotel that housed journalists. The dramatic upswing in violence had the whole platoon in the mountains, chasing ghosts. Supplies for these attacks were trickling in from somewhere and it was their job was to stop the flow at the source.

Problem was there was a whole lot of mountain.

Working as a team with Jeter… gone and Sokka not yet medically cleared for duty had felt awkward, like tying your shoelaces with one hand. Tasks that seemed easy enough when you had everything in place were vastly more difficult. It wore the soldiers down but no one had time to think about morale when you were trying to avoid getting added to the list of casualties.

Something digging into his back pierced through the fog of exhaustion. Zuko struggled to remove his OTV, the weight of it too stifling. The last trace of afternoon sun was comforting as it spilled across his face, making his eyelids far too heavy. He gave in, eyes falling closed as he basked in its warmth. Just a few more minutes off his feet. Maybe then… maybe he could…get-

.

.

.

.

.

.

A gentle touch on Zuko's thigh made his whole body snap, mind struggling to surface from the depths of slumber. Pitch black outside now, sun long gone and the outline of a familiar silhouette crouched next to him. "Sokka?"

The man flashed him an apologetic smile. "Figured you wouldn't want to miss chow."

Mention of food was more than enough incentive to get motivated. Sokka helped the groggy man out of his field gear. Zuko couldn't hold back a hiss as his jacket peeled away from a forgotten scrape, blood having long since dried, gluing the fabric to raw skin.

"Sorry!" Sokka dropped the jacket's sleeve as if it were scalding hot. "I'm sorry!"

"No worries." Zuko gingerly eased the rest of the way out of his jacket. "Not your fault."

"What happened?"

"RPG attack. Terrain was in rough shape and there was a little landslide." A tired shrug. "No big deal."

"'A little landslide!'" There was a tinge of anger in this that baffled Zuko in his wooly state. "You guys didn't mention that when you radioed in! Is that your only injury? Let me see!" Sokka felt his way around the man in desperation. "Was anyone else hur-

"No." Zuko trapped searching hands against his chest. "Nobody hurt. Just a bit banged up. Could have been worse."

"I know." Fists balled up tight in Zuko's shirt. "It's been pretty much all I could think about." Sokka couldn't look him in the eye, brow crumpled in misery. "I'm supposed to be watching your back and I'm stuck here like some goddamned fobbit."

He couldn't resist strumming the curve of Sokka's jaw. "Nobody resents you for not being there with us. Least of all me."

With a loud sniffle, Sokka wiped any outward trace of his guilt away with his sleeve. "I haven't been completely useless. There's something I've been working on." He let slip a faint smile. "Let's eat first."

They had just seated themselves with fully laden trays when a frazzled specialist sped up to them, the top of her blonde head the only thing visible over the massive box in her arms. Squinting at the name on Zuko's uniform, she puffed out her cheeks in relief. "Here ya go Private. Somebody lit a fire under a whole lot of asses to get this to you so you let 'em know I did my part." She dumped the box onto their table with little fanfare and took off to continue on her harried way.

Zuko chewed his dinner carefully. The package's arrival was a bit of a surprise. The return address was unfamiliar- somewhere in the States- but the postage label looked East Asian. There were few people that would be sending him anything at all, much less a great big box from –what was it, Karachi? Somewhere in Pakistan, at least.

"C'mon!" Sokka fidgeted in his seat as he shoveled down another forkful of flavorless beans. "Aren't you gonna open it?"

Copious amounts of packing tape proved to be little barrier against a cheap dinner knife. A slow, crooked smile snuck across Zuko's face as he reached for the simple white envelope that waited for him upon opening the box.

In a familiar tidy script the letter began: _My dear nephew_,

The smile grew wider.

_I hope this letter finds you well. It seems like it has been far too long since I last wrote and for that I apologize. Reports of more frequent firefights in Kabul Province have only heightened my guilt at being so remiss, which was only made worse once I realized that the reported death was from a soldier in your own unit. Please accept my deepest sympathies on your loss. I suspect that there are many with whom you serve that want nothing more but to hear the voice of a loved one at a time like this so I've included some small tokens in hopes that they could be offered that opportunity._

Zuko sifted through the box blindly as he read. His hand brushed against something hard and heavy, breaking his train of thought. On inspection it was hundreds of small cards bundled together in plastic wrap.

Sokka boggled at the sight. "That is a shit load of phone cards."

The letter continued.

_You know I am loathe to burden you with work related matters, __I do have one small favor to ask __that might work out to both our benefit. __One of __my__ research divisions has been developing a new technical fabric that __has some fascinating potential__. They __have a prototype that is in need of field testing__. __W__ho better to ask for an opinion on this than my favorite nephew?_

This prompted a bemused shake of the head from Zuko. "I'm your only nephew, old man," he murmured with no small amount of affection.

_It is ironic that problems with the company's facility in Islamabad bring me to Pakistan. So close to you and yet so far. If I were only able to deliver all this myself, I would. _

The mention of Kai gave Zuko pause. Iroh never discussed business in his letters -or anything negative for that matter- knowing that it would be read and reread until the pages were close to tearing at the fold. His uncle would never tease him with the knowledge that he was near when there was absolutely no way either of them could do anything about it.

What are you up to Uncle?

He read on.

_I am not above offering some enticement to ensure your full cooperation. My offering will hopefully make it to you intact. As I recall you had a certain fondness for these but age plays cruel tricks on the mind. I hope you and your friend enjoy them._

_Stay safe._

_-I_

Fondness for what? Zuko set the letter down, curiosity eating at him as soon as he read those words. No. No way. Uncle wouldn't have sent… With his pulse pounding in his ears, he dug impatiently through the layers of protective insulation to pull out an elegant, cylindrical black box, bearing a simple white and black label.

Sokka was intrigued by his friend's breathlessness. "Your uncle sent you a hat box?" Zuko couldn't answer, too distracted with trying to undo the black satin ribbon.

They both grinned ferociously at what the cylinder contained. Laid out in a grid within the box was row upon row of exquisite chocolates, somehow managing to survive the trip through desert heat. The two men gorged themselves on the luxurious sweets. No good place to store them for safe keeping so may as well finish them now. Or at least that was what Sokka said after taking his eighth piece. Zuko could only agree with this assessment.

The lethargy of overindulgence had settled over them both before either of them realized the package from Iroh was not quite empty. It took a bit of fishing through the wads of packing material but it was there- a shirt, desert tan of course, almost identical to the ones they all usually wore under their uniforms. On closer inspection, the fabric was a little thicker and a little stiffer than one would expect but otherwise unremarkable.

"How is this different from normal?" Sokka asked as he stretched the material between his hands.

"I don't know." Zuko scanned the letter once more, but it was no more informative than the first time. Damn him. The old man couldn't give a straight answer if his life depended on it.

The clatter of mop and bucket signaled the mess hall was looking to close so the men gathered their things.

"Let's grab a computer," Sokka said, pitching the now empty box into a waste bin. "I wanna show you that thing I've been working on."

Once they grabbed a kiosk, Sokka had a map of Kabul province up in no time. "I read through every skirmish report. I had a hard time sleeping unless I knew you guys had checked in." He coughed to cover a hint of flush to his cheeks. "Anyway, I noticed a pattern." With a few clicks, the map was peppered with different colored dots. "The fighting seems to be unusually intense around this part of the Paghman mountains." His finger circled an area almost blanked out with dots.

Zuko stared blankly. "There's nothing there. No town, no roads, no nothing. Any units moving through there would just be passing through."

"Yup. So why is it so well defended?" They eyed each other furtively.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" asked Zuko.

"Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first." Sokka looked a little bashful as he rose from his chair. "Needed to make sure my head's working right. Too late to talk to anybody now. It'll be lights out soon. I'll tell 'em tomorrow morning, after… " He went very quiet.

After the memorial. The unspoken words hung between them.

A yawn hit Sokka out of nowhere. "Shit, I'm tired. You ready?"

"Gimme a second." Zuko scooted closer to the computer. "Just want to check something."

His long fingers clattered noisily over the keyboard. Kai. Islamabad. Ah- there. The first hit was an article that was about a month old. It described an attack on a warehouse owned by Kai in the outskirts of Islamabad. Two guards killed, the storage facility looted. Rifles. Bullets.

Artillery shells.

A small video popped up of a Pakistani news network report, the reporter speaking in Urdu too fast for him to follow. Zuko felt his gut tighten as the video cut to a shot of his sister at some news conference, sounding vaguely bored as the press peppered her with questions. "Kai Industries wishes to extend their deepest condolences to the family of the guards killed in this vicious attack. We have extended our full cooperation to local authorities."

Out of nowhere there was a hand on Zuko's shoulder digging painfully into his collar bone. He looked up to find Sokka looking pale, unnaturally pale. He was on his feet, supporting the shaking man in a heartbeat.

Unable to take his eyes from the screen, Sokka leaned heavily on the other man. The potty internet connection had frozen on Azula's impassive face. "Who… who is that?"

"That's my sister." He felt helpless, unsure of what to do. "What's wrong?"

"I… know her from… somewhere."

"A picture of mine maybe…" Zuko already knew this to be a lie. There was only one family member's picture he had ever shown the other man.

"No! I've met her! I know I have! I just can't… Can't-" Sokka clutched at his head, pain stealing his breath away.

Unwilling to let go of the man in his arms, Zuko forced them both into motion. It was only when they made it back to their cots that the shocky man slowly began to return to normal.

"Sorry, man." Sokka was completely drained. "I have to remember. It's important. I can feel it."

"Don't force it." Zuko lay a thin blanket over the man who was already half asleep. "It'll come."

Both slept fitfully that night, troubled by too many questions.

---------------

The day was already a warm one, sun sizzling on the horizon. Even the birds were unusually quiet this morning, as if they knew what was to come.

Sokka watched the soldiers gather. A wide mix of rank and age, they came together. There were members of other nations joining them as well, hoping to pay their respects. Longshot appeared out of nowhere, settling in next to Zuko as they greeted each other with a solemn nod.

Their commander was normally a man of few words but he spoke at length on the importance of strength and sacrifice. He spoke of duty, he spoke of honor. There was one final obligation, he said. One last responsibility they all had to their fallen brothers-in-arms.

Let them never be forgotten.

Seemingly plain, ordinary objects were assembled before the crowd with solemn purpose. Most obvious of these was a rifle thrust into the sandy soil by its bayonet, used for over a century to mark the location of those fallen in battle. A pair of worn, weathered boots rested on either side of the blade- a soldier's last march. Resting atop the butt of the rifle was a battered helmet. Long, thin chain holding dog tags hung from the rifle's hand grip, fluttering in the constant wind. In front of it all was a framed photo -a face with a familiar smirk, eyes flashing a hint of the devil.

A sergeant major built like a freight train moved to face the crowd. "Prepare for roll call!" His voice boomed loud enough to feel it in your bones. He produced a piece of paper that looked like a small scrap in his huge hands and unfolded it with great formality. "Private Amaruq!"

Sokka swallowed hard, pushing down the grief already burning in his chest. "Here, Sergeant Major!"

"Lieutenant Colonel Garcia!"

A tall, broad shouldered woman answered. "Here, Sergeant Major!"

It continued like this, one by one, name by name as the sergeant major made his way through his list.

"PFC Salucci!"

A sleepy eyed young man responded this time. "Here, Sergeant Major!"

The sergeant major called and they answered.

All except one.

"Private Jeter!"

Silence but for the distant rumble of heavy vehicles permanently on the move.

"Private William Jeter!" the sergeant major called again. He paused briefly to call a final time, enunciating every syllable with care. "Private William Aran Jeter!"

Longshot's spine went from straight to even straighter as he drew a fractured breath. "Private William Aran Jeter!" His tenor was clear and strong, his voice filling the terrible void. "Bravo Company, Twenty Sixth Infantry! Killed in action eighteenth of March, two thousand ten. Kabul Province, Afghanistan."

Riflemen took position and fired once, twice, three times- an old signal to warring armies that the time had come to enter the field of battle. Not to fight, but to lay down their weapons and reclaim their dead.

It was only after the bugle called out its last mournful note that tears were permitted to fall.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N Delayed due to working on big bang fic and Ezio Auditore's hot ass. Damn you AC2.

The avalanche in Salang Pass actually did happen this year, resulting in over 170 deaths. I exaggerate the amount of time they took to make repairs. Oh, and if anyone actually wants references for any of my bs I have _loads_. Have been working on this for a while and the scene was getting ridiculously long, so I've decided to break it up a little.

Any feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Afghanistan summer was either more sun than you could handle or filled with dust storms that could damn near scour the skin from your face. An early start to the day didn't save anyone from either of those things. Sokka felt the sweat already trickling down the small of his back under forty pounds of gear. Of the two options he'd go with hot and sunny, thanks.

If he was honest with himself, it felt good to be on active duty even if the conditions were shitastic. Felt good to be _useful_ again. From the smallest tug of a smile that Zuko gave him whenever they caught each other's eye, it looked like Sokka was not the only one who was glad he was back.

Ignore the heat. Don't lose focus. The whole squad was out here frying their balls off because of him. It was _his_ theory that got them stuck out on a glorified goat trail heading straight towards the ass end of nowhere; his theory that something big and bad was hiding where no one had thought to look.

There was no fucking way he would let them down.

In a way he was lucky their CO was a sensible kind of guy. There were plenty of commanders who would have blown off the ramblings of some bullshit private. The old man listened patiently as the evidence was laid out: the increased rate of attacks, a weird distribution in an area of no strategic value but Sokka had no 'why here? Why now?'

Or how about just 'why'.

Unsurprisingly their CO had access to the bigger picture to fill in some of the gaps. There wouldn't have been _any_ troop movements through the area if the winter hadn't come to an end with a punishing blizzard. More than a dozen avalanches shut down miles of Salang Pass, sweeping vehicles off the mountain side in a lethal wall of white. The pass held a tunnel that the Soviets had carved into the Hindu Kush in the sixties. A vital artery of travel between the north and south had been cut as the army helped locals dig out their dead with shovels, spades and –more often-bare hands. It would be months before the army's corps of engineers would deem it safe as they struggled to make repairs, by necessity diverting all traffic.

Well, traffic of the motorized variety anyway. The Kuchi didn't seem to have a problem with their carts and beasts of burden, finding their own way on rugged road just as they had for millennia, making sure to keep clear of certain sections along the border with Pakistan to dodge the worst of the fighting as more and more of them fled the drought in the south.

More investigation was needed. Pictures off the satellites showed a scattered number of nomad camps and a flyover reported more goats than people. No. If they wanted to really get an idea of what was going on, they needed eyes on the ground and that was what infantry did best.

The plan was simple. Get in. Look around. Head back home. An easy place to start when you weren't really sure what you were dealing with. The location they targeted had been the biggest source of the attacks. What was worth protecting out here? No one would risk taking potshots if there wasn't something that needed defending.

They just needed to find out what it was.

So here they were. Scouting. Searching. The steep terrain was intimidating, snow still visible on the top of some of their highest jagged peaks. Their path was ringed with boulders that could have crushed their vehicles in a heartbeat, tons of rock tethered to the mountainside by the barest of threads.

The wind was picking up; bringing dust clouds that brought some small decrease in visibility. They were close now, coming to a halt as they approached a section of path that was too narrow for their sergeant's liking. Rough road with a steep drop to one side. Too close to the edge would send the vehicles tumbling into a narrow ravine.

Great spot for an ambush.

Armed with binoculars, Sokka walked close to the precipitous drop and scanned the hillside inch by inch. His heart quickened at the overwhelming feel of exposure. No trees, no nothing but them crammed in a bunch of rolling tin cans on the side of a mountain. His doubts were refreshed, worry picking them open like an old scab. If he was wrong, then they were out here for nothing. If he was right, then they were about to get into a shit spot with a big target on their backs.

Please. Please let him be wrong.

"See anything?" Zuko was at his shoulder, rifle at the ready.

It was comforting just to hear the other man breathe. "Nothing but a whole lot of rock… Wait-" A flash of something big and white caught Sokka's eye. What the hell? Why would _that_ be out here all by itself? "I'm not seeing things, am I?" The question was not completely in jest.

He could hear Zuko shift restlessly beside him. "What is it?"

"Here. " The binoculars changed hands. "200 meters. Straight ahead."

Sokka was profoundly relieved by Zuko's puff of laughter.

"It's that ox that acts like a dog." Unconsciously Zuko took a step forward, getting a little too close to the edge for comfort. "Belongs to that Kuchi boy. Aang."

"That scruffy little kid with the monkey?" This totally caught Sokka off guard. "You remember his _cow_?"

"Cows are female. Oxen are usually male," Zuko corrected automatically, too intent on the creature. He flinched slightly as a hint of color washed over his face. "It ate my ice cream."

Swirls of dust didn't seem to bother the placid beast a bit as it scrounged for whatever grass it could find.

"I didn't see the kid anywhere." Zuko handed back the binoculars. "Did you?"

Sokka didn't get to answer before an alarm went up.

"Hey!" Sneers had a hint of panic in his voice as he called out from the rear of their convoy. "We got company behind us!"

Pop-pop-pop. Distant gunfire sprayed the rear of their position and the squad delivered a spray of bullets in return.

"Motherfucking god damn!" Their sergeant sprinted back to their vehicle, red faced as he bellowed his stream of obscenities. "Take cover! Get to the-"

Boom.

The explosion was close –almost at Zuko's feet- the force enough to put Sokka on his ass. Fucking RPGs. Thank god the dude was a shitty shot or the only thing left of the two of them would have been a bloody smear. Orders were already flying over the radio at his ear as he tried to sit up.

His hands.

His hands were tingling. Almost vibrating. Had he taken a hit?

Zuko scrambled up onto unsteady legs as he spat out a mouthful of dirt. "Where are they firing from?" The lack of response made him turn to Sokka in alarm. "You okay?"

Pushing himself up into a crouch, Sokka tried to reassess. A little beat up but pretty normal. What the fuck? He looked up bewildered only to zone in on a hint of movement just past Zuko's shoulder- a trickle of loose soil spilling down the canyon wall and it was growing in volume.

It wasn't his hands that had been doing the vibrating.

Panic gripped him by the throat.

Some perverse part of Sokka's mind fixated on how the beginning of a rock avalanche sounded like a thunderstorm. Kind of pretty in a terrifying way. The part of his mind that preferred not dying launched himself bodily at Zuko, straight up tackling him, hoping it was enough to get them out of the way.

They tumbled into the ravine in a tangle of limbs as the biggest part of the wave of stone missed them by inches. It was oddly reassuring to hear them both choking on the soot and soil because choking meant still _alive_.

Their sergeant's tinny voice was already bellowing over his radio as Zuko helped Sokka to his feet.

"Canyon 3-2 Alpha, Canyon 3-2 Bravo! One of you pigfuckers better give me a goddamned SITREP _right_ _now_!"

It took a minute for the burning in his chest to stop enough for Sokka to answer. "Canyon 3-2 Alpha here. Bravo too. Banged up but no injuries." Tears and grit smeared across his face as he tried to clear his vision to see if they could-oh.

Fuck.

A few thousand pounds of rubble had filled the narrow pass, an instant barrier between them and their convoy. Zuko was already tearing at dirt with his bare hands, digging out what fallen gear they could salvage. Maybe if the pile wasn't too unstable they could try to climb-

Boom.

Another poorly aimed RPG, closer to the squad by the sound of it. The earth quaked ominously around them, this time the rumble going right to the bone.

The radio hissed as the sergeant barked at them. "Canyon 3-2 Alpha, this whole fucking mountain's gonna come down. Air support's gonna take too long to get here and we gotta fall back! Can you boys get to the recovery site? We'll regroup there."

Shit. This was the reason the army made plans, plans and more plans. Everyone _knew_ things went wrong and they trained _hard_ for it. If you got separated, you needed to find the recovery site. It was like playing tag- you had to get to your base. Except here if you were going to get tagged as 'it' it was very likely going to be by a bullet.

Looking to Zuko, the other man appeared just as shaken but still nodded in determination. Sokka tried to wet his lips but all he could taste was dust. "We're gonna have to, sir."

It was bizarre to hear the real time crackle of gunfire with its delayed echo over the radio. "Good luck, boys." The gruff ghost of a voice emerged from the speaker awkwardly, turning gentle. "We'll see you soon."

* * *

Survive.

Evade.

Resist.

Escape.

The words echoed in the minds of both soldiers. There was little choice but to head deeper into the canyon. The heat, the sun was close to unbearable. Wind tore at their clothes, sucking any spare moisture from their skin. Eyes searched and searched as they moved, hoping to spot danger before danger spotted them.

They held off on drinking until they were in desperate need of it. Water was a precious thing when you had no idea when you would next have your fill. After a cautious sip, Zuko held out his canteen. Sokka took it gratefully and glanced into the mouth of it to check its contents. Between the two of them they had another two days worth, maybe three if they were lucky. They would need every bit of it if they were going to get where they needed to be when on foot in hostile territory.

Three days. In three days, they'd-

_Shit_.

Zuko stepped closer when he saw the pain sweep across the other man's face. ""You have to actually _drink_ the water for it to do any good, not just stare at it."

The canteen hung limply in Sokka's hands. A soft touch on the back of his wrist reminded him that he could ill afford to get lost in his thoughts. "My sister. She graduates this weekend. I didn't get a chance to call her before we left." Sokka couldn't bring himself to look up. "I thought it wasn't a big deal." The breath he drew hurt worse than any punch he had ever taken. "The mission was supposed to be over and done with by then and now we're-"

The hand on his turned into a vice. "And _now_ we're heading back to the recovery site." Zuko's tone made it clear that that anything else Sokka might have been about to say was unacceptable. "We are going to be _fine_."

"Sure." Sokka nodded, trying to push his fears deep down. "I'll call her when we get back." He finally managed to swallow a few drops before they continued on their way .

* * *

Oh, look another AN.

Hopefully this was not too discordant and people are still interested in the plotline. If all you're looking for is the smutty bits, it'll be a while. They won't exactly be looking to bang each other's brains out while on the run.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N If you've stuck with this story so far, I'd really appreciate feedback here as the next couple of chapters have been in my head for a long time. It gets to the point where I'm not sure if it makes sense to anyone else. Also not trying to be an ass by ending where I did. The chapter was getting too bulky. Thanks

* * *

Inching his way forward, Sokka switched places with Zuko to take the lead to traverse the mountain's ridge. What little shadows there were provided little comfort. Goddamn, it was hot.

Keep moving. Keep moving no matter what.

Not like they had any other choice. The pop of gunfire from the ambush site had ended not that long ago, but it was safe to assume that the hunt was on. The separation of two soldiers from their unit would hardly go unnoticed by either side.

Radios didn't work that great in the mountains, and they were too far out of range to raise anyone. Thankfully the thing still functioned as a homing beacon for the GPS based Blue Force Tracker. The Army had more than enough tech to pinpoint the location of two of their own, but they had to race against a group that was much closer and much more intimately familiar with the terrain. Get caught by an unfriendly audience and the two soldiers would wind up bargaining tools.

Well- only if the people who found them wanted them alive.

The brutal heat of the day radiated into Sokka's back. Like standing next to a brick oven. He wiped at his brow with the back of one sleeve. Man, I would totally wreck some pizza right now.

Stop thinking about food, moron.

He glanced over his shoulder at the man behind him. Zuko had his rifle to his shoulder even though he was almost an unnatural shade of red and dripping with perspiration.

"How're you doing?" Sokka asked for the hundredth time with no expectation that the answer be any different than it had the first time he'd asked.

Zuko didn't seem to mind. There was something to be said for the small comfort of the other's voice, no matter how idle the chatter. Producing a rag from some hidden pocket, he mopped up the sweat from his neck. "Not bad. A little overheated, I guess."

Sokka tried to swallow a weak laugh. "You'll have to tell your uncle his fancy shirt isn't so fancy." He squinted into the sun, spotting the blaze of white flank from the beast that was still placidly munching in the distance.

The cow – correction, ox- was too far out in the open to safely check it out. Its huge tongue snaked out and pulled up another tuft of grass. How depressing it was to think that explosions and gun fire were so common place that the animal was inured to it all. "Any sign of the kid?'

Puffing out his cheeks in frustration, Zuko scanned the horizon. "I've been keeping an eye out for him. Nothing so far."

His tongue was thick and unwieldy as Sokka tried to smooth it over cracked lips. "Think this is where Aang found that shell?"

"I don't know." Zuko sighed, looking pensive. "If it isn't, then there's still a mystery out there somewhere. If he _did_ find it here…"

Sokka rubbed at his temple. "Then we just got dropped into shit pile central."

This pulled a soft snort from Zuko. "Pretty much."

They fell into silence as fatigue sat heavily on their shoulders.

Keep moving.

Only one more mountain to skirt to get to their safe spot. Just one little mountain. Ugh. Sokka stood at the edge of a small basin, focusing on the shape of the giant bowl. Downclimb through this, across another ravine and they'd be there.

A flicker of something. A little movement. Just in the corner of his eye at the flattest part of the basin.

Sokka shook his head and looked again, not quite sure what he was seeing.

It could have been a mirage, but the air in the basin would have to be much hotter than where they were standing for that to happen and that didn't seem possible.

No. The ground was actually moving. Almost imperceptible unless you sat and watched for it. A distinct ripple that snaked a path back and forth, pausing here and there. Sorta like the trail that Bugs Bunny left behind in his cartoons except in real life.

He looked up to Zuko in alarm, to see his shock mirrored back at him. Together they stared, trying to spot a repeat of the movement.

Nothing.

They started their descent slowly, both pairs of eyes returning to the basin frequently to try and capture a glimpse of whatever it was.

They both jumped when a chattering ball of fur appeared in dead center of the basin, completely out of nowhere. Where the fuck had the thing come from? It looked familiar…

"Isn't that the kid's monkey?" Sokka hissed, squashing the urge to shout.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at him. "You give me shit about remembering the ox but you remember the _monkey_?"

Sokka shrugged as if the answer should have been obvious. "Monkeys are cool."

A faint smile crossed Zuko's lips before he turned serious again. "So that settles it. The kid's _got_ to be around here some-"

In the blink of an eye, the monkey was gone.

Poof.

Vanished.

"Crazy," Sokka murmured as the man at his shoulder asked "Okay, what the fuck just happened?" almost simultaneously.

Discipline was the only thing holding them from scrambling the rest of the way down the basin. They were almost there before the little furball popped up again, this time much closer than he'd been before. On spotting them, the thing let out a squeal and bolted.

Zuko took an almost unconscious step forward but he was stopped by a hand on his arm. "What? I bet he'll lead us straight to the kid."

"Our priority should be to get back to the recovery site." Sokka spoke firmly, more to convince himself than anything else. He could feel it in his bones. They were so close to untangling at least part of this mess that it physically pained him to let the monkey go. "We _know_ something's wrong here. We can come back when we've got more boots on the ground."

They watched the monkey zip along the perimeter of the basin and race over the ridge on the far side before resuming their course. Zuko went first, trying to navigate the least treacherous path. Sokka watched for trouble from behind with rifle at the ready.

A frenzied flap of wings drew his eye as pigeons took off from a ledge that over looked their position. Was it a fox that had scared them off, or something else? Their path took them close to the flattest part of the basin and then-

"Shit!" The burst from Zuko was shocking as it echoed off the rock that ringed their position. "Shitshitshitshit!"

"What? Did you see something?" Sokka didn't like the agitation in Zuko's voice- not one little bit- but he didn't dare take his eyes off that ledge. In his peripheral vision he could see Zuko on all fours, examining the ground.

"Give me your Leatherman!"

Dipping down, Sokka blindly swept the top of his boot to retrieve the small multitool he kept tucked away in his pant leg. He didn't spare a glance as he tossed it over his shoulder, not surprised to hear the other man catch it easily.

"Zuko," Sokka warned threateningly. "Tell me what's happening." He could hear the man sawing at something but heard no explanation.

A flash of light from the suspect ledge. Sun reflecting off of binoculars, maybe? Could be someone watching him watching them. His pulse hammered in his ears as he set his finger over the trigger. Try not to blink. "C'mon, you're killing me here! Talk to me!"

When Zuko answered, he sounded far too raw. Too haggard. "Look."

The ledge was tripping all sorts of alarm bells but Sokka had to turn. How could he _not_? He watched Zuko lean over to grab on to something. It didn't look like he had anything in his hands except for a hastily cut piece of rope but Zuko _pulled and pulled and pulled._

It was like a goddamned magic trick. A whole section of _something_ came away in the man's hands, sudden gust of wind making it wriggle like a live fish in his grasp.

It was a sheet. A fucking great big sheet of camouflage netting, elaborate in its patterning, looking pretty damn indistinguishable from the very soil they were standing on.

Underneath it was flat ground. Not a stone in sight- it was perfectly smooth. Picked clean, even.

Sokka dropped to his knees. With his ear on the ground, he could see that there was an interlocking network of the netting covering the entire basin, tethered to the ground in sections. The amount of space it covered was big too. Not big enough to land a Chinook but at least an Apache for sure.

A fucking helipad. Right under their very nose and they wouldn't have seen it if a goddamned monkey hadn't been playing hide and seek underneath it.

Stumbling to his feet, Sokka could feel his heart pounding. "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

Zuko looked deathly pale as he nodded in agreement.

Crack. Crack. Tiny bursts of dust at their feet

Goddamnit.

"Ledge!" 400 meters!" he barked as Zuko dumped the netting to bring his own rifle to bear. A few bursts from their rifles got whoever was shooting at them to back off for a moment so they fucking ran for it.

Survive. Evade. Resist. Escape.

Sprinting across the hidden helipad got them further away from the ledge but nowhere closer to cover. He heard a loud curse behind him from Zuko, sounding as if he had tripped over one of the near invisible tethers. The first to make it halfway up the basin wall, Sokka turned and fired another quick burst to let Zuko catch up.

"Tsokkah! Tsokkah!" A nervous voice, far too young to be in the middle of a firefight, was calling from above.

It took Sokka a second to realize that it was someone saying his own name. "Aang?" Fucking _knew_ he'd be here.

The scruffy kid popped his head over the ridge and gestured for the men to follow. "_La maasara raza!_ Come! Come!" The little dude had been in and out of the area with a walking rack of ribs for at least a couple of months with no problems. Not too surprising that the kid knew where to go.

Bullets pinged closer as the gunman got bolder. Fuck, they were damn sitting ducks out here. Whoever was doing the shooting may have been a bad shot, but at least knew enough to hide properly and prevent him from taking a clear shot in return, especially at this distance. His finger stayed on the trigger until Zuko managed to get to the relative safety over the ridge, spraying the far ledge with a tight cluster of bullets to give the shooter something else to think about.

A cluster of miniscule explosions erupted a foot to his right. Holyfuckfuckfuckfuck. Maybe not _that_ bad of a shot. Zuko had already dropped into position to offer cover, but they had run out of time. With a little flip, Sokka made a break for it, hauling ass for the top. He had only managed to get himself halfway over before the bullet tore through his leg.

Man, it was kinda weird that it wasn't noticeable at first. Probably all the adrenaline coursing through his veins, cutting off the pain. It wasn't until he took a step and his leg gave out that he realized that something had happened.

That then it started

The burn. Oh, god it fucking _burned._ Like someone had taken a white hot poker and stabbed him in the calf.

He tried to ignore it- fight through it- but his leg didn't want to cooperate. Hands gripped a loop on his pack and dragged him the rest of the way. There was almost an ethereal disconnect as he stared in fascination at his own open flesh, a surprising amount of fat mixed with torn muscle seen through jagged edges of bloodied skin.

Zuko was tightlipped, already tying his sweaty soaked rag around the wound. Not the cleanest thing, but they had little choice. "Aang!"

The poor kid wrung his hands, unsure of what to do.

"We need to get out of here!" You could tell Zuko was trying hard not to frighten Aang any more than he already was. "_Korta zah!_ _Tik ta_?"

With a vigorous nod, a beatific smile spread across the boy's face. He was almost floating in his eagerness to lead the way.

Sokka felt a hand cup his cheek. He looked up, hoping he didn't look as awful as he felt.

"You okay?" Zuko whispered, amber eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red.

Covering the hand with one of his own, Sokka managed a smile. "Fine now. Let's go."

* * *

La maasara raza- come with me

Korta zah- go home.

Tik ta- understood?


	23. Chapter 23

This was a tough one. Feedback greatly appreciated.

* * *

Zuko stared after the Afghani boy in dazed astonishment. Full of energy, Aang went from rock to rock with zero effort as he led the way through a particularly narrow pass. He would flit back and forth, checking on the adults before flitting up ahead of them again like a maternal hummingbird.

An unusually fierce wind didn't faze the kid at all, air picking up sand that bit at exposed skin as it whistled through the canyon. It sounded miserable but in actuality it was the first lucky break since the fire fight. Visibility had dropped down to about nil and that was good news for someone trying to stay hidden. Not so good news for the people trying to find them on either side but any recovery ops would have the advantage of homing in on the emergency beacon in the soldiers' radio. Each minute the men could evade capture meant help was a little bit closer.

The calf injury hadn't hampered their mobility as much as expected. It had taken some experimentation but they'd managed a convoluted system with one man supporting the other. Moving together may have looked like they were stumbling home drunk from a great night out but it worked, which was the best they could hope for at the moment.

Stubborn and stoic, Sokka refused to acknowledge that his wound bothered him in any way. The tension in the line of his back told another story. It was far too obvious he was hurting in every sigh, every hitch in the man's breath.

The desire to take the pain away made Zuko ache.

None of this would have happened if he'd done what he was supposed to do in the first place. It wasn't just anyone who had been injured- it was _Sokka_! He should have done whatever it took to prevent that. Except that he'd been too slow. Too sloppy. That he'd sworn an oath to protect his fellow soldier only compounded the bitter sting of inadequacy. Maybe if he'd been more alert, moved faster, done something, _anything-_

But he hadn't.

And the thought _burned. _Hot and fierce.

Zuko packed his doubts into a tight little ball and swallowed them down. The questions and recriminations could come later. If there was a later. What mattered was focusing on the here and now, and right now he knew one thing.

He would not fail again.

It wasn't much of a surprise that engaging Sokka in conversation was a great anesthetic for the man. Anything to distract him from the pain. Zuko tried to keep the conversation going no matter how god awful he was at it.

So he talked. Talked and talked and talked. About the weather, his uncle, the food on post. It didn't take him long to run out of idle chatter and that meant he was in trouble. What else could he do? Tell jokes?

Fuck no. Sokka was in enough pain as it was.

There was one thing, though; a question that had been driving him insane for months. It begged to be asked but the potential answer consumed and worried him in equal measure. Frequently, it would pop into his head unbidden when it was late at night and they were safely tucked into their crappy little cots on base. Every once in a while he'd be too tired to fall asleep, so he'd lay there and listen to Sokka softly snoring nearby.

God damn it, he needed to know. Because there was a chance that he might never know the answer.

And that would be unbearable.

"So," Zuko started, trying to stay casual. "Have you ever thought about what you wanted to do once we get out of here? After the Army I mean."

"You kidding?" Sokka let out an explosive puff of breath. "I think about it all the time. The freedom to do what we want? Live however we want? I can't fucking _wait_!" He spat out some grit that had worked its way into his parched mouth. "And just now I came up with a plan. The first thing that happens, the very day our contract is up- you and me are going someplace very, very wet."

The flood of joy at these words twisted into concern as Sokka bit off a gasp on taking a misstep. Zuko shifted his grip around the other man's waist, trying to take more weight against his hip. "I can just carry you if you want."

"Fuck no! I used to love three legged races when I was little." With a grimace twisting his lips, Sokka hopped forward with determination. "Though it felt a lot more awesome when I was twelve."

A snort escaped from Zuko as he pulled the other man's arm tighter across the back of his shoulders. "C'mon, this isn't fun enough for you?"

"Nah, it's better if we're moving faster." The faint flash of humor that brightened Sokka's face was a relief. "Maybe if we had the right cadence-"

"Like a marching cadence?"

Sokka nodded with his whole body, sending vibrations through the man holding him upright. "Pretty much. My sister and I figured out a system and we totally crushed all of the other kids." The wisp of impish grin that appeared was wonderful to see. "Wanna try it?"

How could he say no?

"Sure."

"All right. Take a step with each syllable and repeat after me. Mo-ther-fuck-er, mo-ther-fuck-er…"

Laughter made it impossible for Zuko to keep the pace. "You are one crazy bastard, you know that?"

"Yup." Blue eyes crinkled at the corners in mirth. "And you love it."

Zuko turned solemn. "I do."

"_Wadarega_!"

They both looked up at Aang's warning. Cocking his head, the boy listened for something as he motioned for them to stop. The men froze with him; straining to hear as much as they could over the shriek of air rushing past them. Once they heard it- it was unmistakable.

A deep rumble. The creak and squeal of a heavy vehicle moving over rocky terrain.

And it was getting closer.

"Anybody we know?" Zuko asked conversationally, struggling to stay optimistic.

Flicking a button on his radio, Sokka sent out another silent distress call just as he had been doing for hours. If the approaching vehicle was at all friendly, there would be a response to the scrambled signal. Seconds ticked by. Both men held their breath, hoping there would be a response.

None came.

Shouts were indistinct and hard to make out over the wind but that they could hear them at all meant that there were unknowns too close for anyone's liking.

The rumble peaked and went silent. The shouting increased by an order of magnitude. Reinforcements perhaps. And not the good kind.

Sokka couldn't hold back a soft "Fuck!" and Zuko could only agree with that assessment.

"Aang!" The boy bounced back to them at Zuko's hiss. "We've have to hide!"

"Yes! Hide!" The heavily accented English was clear enough. "Hokay!" Aang whipped around in place to get his bearings. Brightening, he waved for them to follow. "Here! Here!" He dashed around a bend in their path.

The two men hobbled after him, almost stepping on the skinny boy who was already on his belly at their feet, disappearing into a gash in the side of the mountain. After a moment, a shaggy brown head popped back out again and waved for them to follow.

Sinking to all fours, Sokka peered dubiously into the darkness. What sunlight filtered through the crevice showed a deceptively large space. The Afghani boy had more than enough room to move around in no matter what was on the other side of the crevice. At least it _looked _like he did since all that could be seen was a pair of dirt smeared Spiderman sneakers pacing nervously back and forth. Sokka looked over his shoulder. "Go or no go?"

A string of Pashto from a gruff male voice was clearly audible over the wind. It made the decision for them.

They stripped the equipment from their backs to make the crawl easier, Sokka going first, Zuko passing their packs and following after. Wriggling like a fish through the crack in the earth, Zuko was grateful the Army kept him skinny for the first time in his life. Once through, he let Sokka look around so he could go through their gear.

"Holy shit!"

Zuko was too busy still fishing through his pack to see what had deserved Sokka's amazement. He found the chem light he was searching for and brought it to bear after a snap and a shake.

"Holy shit!" The exclamation came out of him totally involuntarily.

The space that Aang had found for them was huge, in no way obvious from where they had been standing on the outside. There was little head room but it was wide and long.

And it wasn't empty.

Crates. Nondescript wooden crates stacked to the ceiling. They looked well built, with no signs of weathering or aging. Twenty? Thirty of them?

Holding up what little light he had, Zuko stepped deeper into the cave. It was impossible for the crates to fit through the narrow crack they had just crawled through. He wasn't very surprised to see another entrance to the cave with a tunnel stretching out into the darkness in either direction. "A warehouse. Hidden inside a mountain."

A tingle built along the back of his scalp.

Hopping to one of the few crates within his reach, Sokka began examining the surface in detail. "This is fucked up." His fingers traced over a simple red cross emblazoned on the side. "I'm guessing a crazy secret helipad and armed guards is not standard protocol for stocking medical supplies."

Zuko remained silent as he dug into his pocket for the multi tool he had used on the camo netting. Dismissing some of his options, he settled on the saw- long and flat and just the right thing to pull apart the crate that Sokka was poring over. The wood creaked and moaned as he levered at the top in a few key spots. With a 'snap' the top of the crate came away in his hands so he returned the multi tool to Sokka. Together they gently set the wooden lid off to one side. A quick glance at what was within the crate and suddenly Zuko could no longer breathe.

The packing material inside did little to disguise it. Cylinders of dull black metal that looked like the granddaddy of all projectile weapons. Artillery shells. Carefully arranged in the crate like bottles of fine wine.

Hands trembling, Zuko lifted one from its protective nest for closer scrutiny. It was cool to the touch and instantly familiar. It was of Kai manufacture- no mistaking it. He'd spent more than enough time studying the fragment Aang had given him to recognize identical material in a heartbeat. Had it come from the looting of Kai's warehouse in Pakistan? It was a safe assumption but if the serial numbers on the underside were gone, there would be no way to tell for sure.

Rational thought told him that the explosive was quite safe to handle without its fuse, but it was hard to keep cool when every instinct in his body was screaming at him to _run_. He forced himself to turn the shell over in his hands, showing the tell tale sign of the work of someone filing off any trace of identifying marks.

Sokka drew in a fractured breath. "At least the person who working on these did a better job than they did on the fragment, yeah?"

"Aang!" Zuko snapped and instantly regretted it when he saw the boy jump damn near out of his own skin. He took a deep breath and tried to take the bite out of his words. "You've been here before. Is this where you got the fragment? The thing you gave me?"

The kid looked miserable, lips pursed in frustration, shaking his head as if something was desperately trying to get out. He burst into a furious flurry of Pashto, far too fast for either man to follow. The wild gesticulations that accompanied the whirlwind of words offered only a little hope at breaching the language barrier. Pointing at the crates, then back at the way they had come in, Aang's tongue was tripping at full speed before he mimed a huge explosion. He kept going, hands waving wildly as he continued through the explanation that only he could fully understand.

Suddenly timid, he came as close as he dared to the shell in Zuko's hands and pointed at it before pointing finally at Zuko. Wringing his hands, his tirade came to an end. "Bad men here." He looked back and forth between the two men hopefully, completely undaunted by the insane odds they faced as only a young boy could be. "Help, yes?"

"Shit!" Sokka's curse got everyone's attention this time. The injured man hobbled to the chamber's larger exit. He glanced back to Zuko and made a cutting gesture with his hand. The chem light disappeared up Zuko's sleeve, throwing them all into darkness.

Or at least it should have. There was a faint light within the tunnel where none had been before.

Zuko flinched as hands wrapped around his wrist. The chem light dropped to the floor, suffusing them in its eerie green glow.

It was Sokka, thrusting their only radio into his hands.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"You need to take the kid and go," Sokka said brokenly. "Run while you can."

"No!" Zuko shook his head as if it would take all his misery away. "No fucking way!"

"Bad guys are crawling all over this fucking place! You've got to get out of here. _Now!"_

"Aren't you listening?" It was hard for Zuko to keep his voice down through his anger. "I. Am. Not. Leaving. You!"

It was too much. He pulled the other man in and kissed him. It was difficult, with helmets and gear between them but they held onto each other, pouring every ounce of feeling into the kiss. Good and bad.

Tenderness. Longing. Desperation. Fear.

The tears were already streaming down their faces as they broke apart.

"I love you," Zuko whispered.

"I love you, too." Pulling away, Sokka wiped his nose like a child. He turned on Aang and thrust the radio into the confused boy's hands. "Look, kid. You have to take this. Take this and get the fuck out of here!"

Aang tried to force the radio away but Sokka wrapped the boy's tiny fingers around it. "Press the little button right here, okay?"

Zuko looked between them in confusion. "What are you doing?"

Blue eyes locked onto him. "If he stays, whatever is going to happen to us happens to him. If he runs now he'll be our best chance of getting a signal out. Aang's fast as fuck and knows this place better than anybody." His face struggled not to crumble. "They wouldn't let us keep the radio anyway."

The artificial glow in the tunnel was growing increasingly distinct.

Turning to the now terrified boy, Zuko tried to comfort him with a hand on the shoulder. "We need your help, Aang," he said softly. "Find help. To take care of the bad men."

The boy was nearly chewing through his lip as he nodded. Stuffing the radio under his shirt, he was gone, disappearing through the crack in the mountain that had been hiding more than they could have possibly imagined.

"C'mon." With a quick look down the tunnel towards the source of the light, Zuko pulled Sokka's arm over his shoulder and they began heading in the opposite direction. There was a glimmer of hope as they managed to put some distance between themselves and the chamber until there was a shout.

"_Wadarega! Wadarega yaa dee wulim!"_

The two men halted and shared a soft sigh of inevitability.

There was a flood of glare from several flashlights and there were suddenly many bodies crammed into a small space. The two soldiers placed their hands on their heads, trying not to flinch as they were roughly searched. They were turned this way and that as their equipment was stripped from them. Armor, helmets, weapons.

All gone.

Their wrists were efficiently bound behind their backs and they were spun around. Zuko tried to look beyond the bright light shining in his face but could see nothing.

"Oh, Zuko." There was a disappointed sigh from behind the glare. "Such a shame."

The feminine voice took both soldiers by surprise.

A pale, raven haired young woman stepped into view. She sauntered closer, looking out of place yet completely at ease with the armed men around her.

"No." Zuko's denial was soft- more to himself, really- as his body fell into a strange sort of paralysis.

Sokka's reaction was the complete opposite. "You!" he screamed, body snapping in sudden fury. Many hands grabbed hold as he struggled violently to get free.

Azula ignored the flailing man, looking almost sad as she turned her golden gaze on her brother. "You never _could_ stay out of trouble, could you?"

* * *

_Wadarega- _stop

_Wadarega! Wadarega yaa dee wulim!- _ Stop! Stop or I will shoot!


	24. Chapter 24

A/N Hopefully there's folks still interested in this story. Any Pashto translations are found at the end of the chapter.

* * *

Sokka was still shaking, the memory awakening in him with full force as it blasted through scab after scab.

_In the sand outside the German embassy, he was huddled over the body of a dying man. Voices of terror filled his ears, shouts and screams from those fleeing in panic. They couldn't know the bombing attack had been averted by Jeter's sacrifice or if it had only just begun. _

_A pale skinned twig of a girl showing up out of nowhere. Shit, not much older than Katara, if that. Looking back it was plain now that this girl was too cool, too _bored_ with a human being coughing his life out at her feet. _

_Honey-gold eyes on her that looked so much like her brother and yet worlds different. No one that young should look so closed, so impenetrable. Sometimes Zuko was a stubborn jackass but thankfully, wonderfully all of the worst parts of him were tempered by boundless reserves of warmth and compassion. _

_There was none of that here. _

_There was plenty of rage, plenty of white hot anger at the man she had mistaken for her brother. She had _recognized_ Sokka with enough venom to put a gun was in her hand with no hesitation. Not even blinking at the sound of the shot she leveled at him trying to put a bullet in his brain. _

Those same eyes reeled Sokka back into the present. Inspecting him. Scrutinizing him mere inches from his face as if he had magically sprouted antennae from his forehead.

Azula. That was her name. Impossible to forget now.

"How are you not dead?" Her question to him was steeped in irritation, Sokka's continued existence an annoyance. "More lives than a cat," she muttered to herself before a dismissive turn on her heel. She let loose a fluent stream of Pashto. The oldest of the Afghani men answered her warily. After a few heated minutes, they reached a conclusion where neither looked happy but the girl was quick to mask her displeasure.

She turned to her brother, who resolutely ignored her. "These fine gentlemen insist that you be their guests for a little while. I have a few errands to run but I'll be back for a proper family reunion." She directed the next at Zuko with saccharine sweetness. "Do try to mind your manners."

Sokka watched her go, the direction she chose burning itself into the back of his mind. The Afghani men descended upon them.

Zuko stood impassively but Sokka couldn't help flinching when it was his turn for a cloth bag to be thrown over his head. A rifle's jab to the ribs and a few curt phrases in Pashto forced him to stillness, leaving him with nothing but darkness and the sour stink of stale sweat.

There was a shove from behind sending him forward and Sokka bit off a cry at the pain shooting up his leg as it gave way. With his hands tied behind his back he was helpless, rolling into the fall to avoid ending up flat on his face. After a few choice curses from his captors, hands hauled him up again and he hung limp and unresisting; feet scuffing through the dirt as two men dragged him along.

Heart hammering in his chest, pulse bounding in his ears, blood roaring at Sokka to struggle, to scream, to fight.

Sokka ignored it.

Five meters. Turn left.

He tried to even out his breathing, desperately _not_ wanting to think about how much the bag cinched around his neck felt like a noose.

Another three meters. Some weird kind of shuffley left turn thing.

The murmured words around him were beyond his shitty language skills. _Fuck_, he should have studied more. All Sokka could make out was the occasional 'prisoner', 'hold' and 'gun'.

Five meters and another freaky sharp left turn. Shit, were they being led in circles?

It wasn't a bad idea, tricking the prisoners into thinking they were traveling farther than they actually were especially when they couldn't see where they were going. The tunnel system couldn't have been that extensive. They were under a goddamn mountain in the middle of nowhere sitting on a fuck-ton of illegal ordnance. Not like these guys were planning on building an amusement park down here. Yasir's Underground Funland! Come for the tunnels, stay for the high grade explosives! Sokka let his feet hang a little lower, hoping it would leave some semblance of a trail.

Finally two more right turns and there was a flurry of chit chat. Sokka felt himself being lowered, winding up on his ass, feeling the wall's cool roughness at his back. The bag was whipped from his head and he was glad to taste fresher air even if it was only mildly so. A flood of relief to see Zuko was still with him, one of their captors forcing the other man to sit nearby. The idea of being separated hadn't occurred to him but the very thought gave him chills.

Once their captors finally retreated, Sokka permitted himself a look around. A literal hole in the wall looked like it had been converted into a holding cell real quick. Ancient camping lantern that looked like it was on its last legs was the cell's only source of light. A single guard-painfully young and with rifle in hand- hung by the entrance, looking less than pleased with his newly assigned duties. And Zuko…

Zuko was quiet. Too quiet.

"Hey," Sokka called softly, scooting over inch by inch, until they brushed shoulders. "They didn't hurt you, did th-"

"Azula shot you." There was no inherent question, only Zuko's flat statement of fact. "Outside the embassy. My sister tried to kill you."

Hearing it said out loud made the memory pulse through him once more. Sokka didn't dare answer, mind's eye filled with the barrel of a gun pointed straight at him; instead he dug his chin into the other man's shoulder. There was the lightest touch of cheek grazing against his own and they both took what solace from it they could.

Minutes passed and the drowsy guard snapped to attention. The two soldiers were on alert as an old man shuffled in, backpack in hand and an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. A few words were exchanged and the guard waved an apathetic hand in Sokka's direction.

Sokka tensed against Zuko as the old man dumped his battered backpack deliberately at Sokka's feet.

"Hurt one." It was hard to tell if the old man was asking a question or not, vocal chords creaking worse than the rustiest of rusty hinges. "Show me."

The hesitation only made the man let out an exasperated sigh. "Show!" he demanded once more, cigarette firmly in place by some mystical force.

Finally, Sokka edged away from the wall to better offer his injured leg. The old man shoved the limb this way and that, grumbling through his cursory examination. A blade appeared and Sokka didn't have time to react before it was slicing through the makeshift bandage that had become a solid mess of blood and grime.

With nicotine stained fingers the old man examined the wound, poking and prodding as he went. Another grunt and the man yanked a bottle of liquid from his bag and with no warning whatsoever began to cleanse the torn flesh.

Even if it was tap water it was better than noth-"Fuck!" Grinding his teeth, Sokka could tolerate the sting but from time to time the water would hit _something_ that sent a searing bolt of electricity shooting straight up _through_ his thigh. Jesus _fuck_! He didn't realize he was struggling, useless attempts to escape the feeling that his muscles were on _fucking fire_ on the inside until he heard a whisper in his ear.

"It's okay." He sank into Zuko, who pressed flush against his back. "Let him do this."

Sokka tried to close off his mind, seal the pain away for a moment just to get through it. What went on for seconds felt like hours, but then suddenly the worst of it was over and the old Afghani discarded his empty bottle to begin applying some foul smelling salve. With brisk efficiency, the man finished by wrapping the wound tightly, aged bandaging materials looking far older than either of the two men watching him work. Just like that, the man was done, tossing his supplies in the bag with zero fanfare.

"_Tash…tashakkur_," Sokka said haltingly, desperate to make some connection before the man could disappear.

The offer of thanks softened the old man's worn leather stare. He reached back into his bag to produce a second bottle of water. This one he cracked open and held to Sokka's lips who gratefully drank and drank and drank. When it was halfway done, Sokka pulled away, nodding for the rest to be shared with Zuko who thirstily finished the remainder in seconds. The man packed away the now-empty bottle and without another word was gone.

The two soldiers sat in silence and waited. Once their guard slipped back into complacency, Sokka felt Zuko move against him. Twisting in place, Zuko canted his leg at an impossible angle, twisting to show the edge of his boot. He whispered, softening his words to keep the sound from carrying, "We can get out of here."

Sokka couldn't breathe, couldn't move at the flash of metal wedged inside Zuko's boot. It was his multitool; the one he'd given Zuko earlier, just before they'd been captured. He wet his lips with a flash of tongue. "You think you could take Mister Daydream over there? I'm pretty sure we're not far from where we were caught. "

A subtle nod from Zuko. "So we're close to an exit. You still need my help to move?"

"Probably, but we should wait a little bit. Figure out their patrol situation-"

"No!" The word came out much louder than intended. Zuko swallowed thickly, tinge of unease as they waited for the guard to slip back into his doldrums. "We have _got_ to get out of here," he hissed. "_Now_."

Sokka tried to make eye contact with the other man but Zuko steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. "That guy just patched me up," Sokka tried. "They wouldn't bother if they planned on killing us right away."

"Doesn't matter what _their_ plans are. Azula has something else in mind and whatever it is won't be good for either of us."

"C'mon!" Sokka eyed the guard nervously as he pulled his disbelief back to a more suitable level. "You think they take orders from her? These guys don't look like the types who like having a woman tell them what to do."

"Whatever they think of her, she has to be helping them funnel explosives through a war zone. That's got to count for something."

"She's the one using the helipad," Sokka conceded, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip. "A bunch of low altitude aircraft making runs out to the middle of nowhere would raise a big red flag unless it was coalition forces or-"

"A military contractor like Kai," Zuko finished grimly. "And right now the only two people who can put all of this together are you and me." He looked up, a portrait of misery as he finally met Sokka eye to eye. "She's already tried to kill you once. I won't let her try again."

"This still doesn't add up," said Sokka. The puzzle wasn't solved. He could feel it like an itch that was just out of reach. "She could have just stayed hidden. We'd have never known she was here."

Zuko's conviction finally slipped. "_That_ I don't understand. But Iknow we shouldn't stick around to find out more."

They fell back into silence as the guard again snapped to attention. No grizzled old man this time. Azula was cool and confident, addressing the guard in Pashto that had a distinct purr. The guard was suddenly nervous, shifting from foot to foot until her congenial demeanor collapsed into a snarl. She barked an order at the hapless guard and he bumbled away, leaving Azula alone with the two soldiers.

"Now, don't you two look adorable!" she said, striding towards them. A brutishly large Maglite was in her hands, head of the flashlight tapping against her palm with a relentless rhythm. "I missed you, brother. How've you been?"

Zuko sat completely mute, staring at the dirt at her feet.

"Oh, what's the matter? You can't have a little chat with your sister?" Azula deigned to sit down before them both, as if they were settling in for a night around a campfire. "I imagine you already know how unpleasant things could get for you and your… friend here. Can't you see I only want to help you? I can't do that unless you help me."

Slowly, Zuko met his sister's golden gaze with his own. "Let us go. Please."

Her laugh dried up any fragile hope and blew it away to nothing. "Goodness, so naïve. That might work in your own little world but that's not what happens in the real one, Zuzu. Never has, never will." Her false humor evaporated. "Now tell me. How long before a rescue attempt comes for you?"

Zuko shuttered closed, eyes drifting back to the floor.

Agitation began to show through Azula's calm exterior. "Just tell me what I need to know. I'll bring you food. Or water? I'm sure you're both very thirsty."

The continuing silence only goaded her further into fury. "Tell me!" she snapped. "How long until they come for you?"

"You know I won't answer that," Zuko began softly. "That's not how it works in my own little world."

Azula was on her feet; losing what hold she had on her demeanor. She gripped the heavy Maglite in her fist, the metal flashlight solid enough to act as one hell of a bludgeon.

Zuko continued blandly, seemingly unconcerned that she loomed over him. "I can tell you my name but you already know that. Birthday too. Do you need my rank and service number or do you have th-"

Her feral shriek shredded what quiet there was as Azula swung her weapon with full force. Zuko didn't flinch and Sokka was helpless to do anything but watch. The arc of her strike hit the stone just above her brother's head, an explosion of dust and debris raining over him.

The two men witnessed Azula regain her composure by sheer force of will. "Never mind!" Even with her mask firmly in place, she couldn't hide the shake in her hands as she smoothed a flyaway strand of hair. "Father always said you were too stubborn for your own good."

She stalked away, wound up painfully tight as she left the two soldiers on their own.

Sokka felt physically ill, horror at what he'd witnessed tying his guts into knots. Whatever twisted motivations this girl had, Zuko was still _family_- not some chess piece to be manipulated. He turned to the other man, still breathless. "Christ, you were right. We are in even deeper shit than I thought."

Anything else he had to say trailed off to nothing as he noticed the trail of a tears streaking down the unscarred side of Zuko's dirty face. "My family," came the whisper, filled with far too much of heartache. "How did this become my family?"

"It's not you," Sokka babbled, awkwardly contorting himself to face Zuko. "None of this is you," he repeated over and over, uncaring if he wasn't making sense. Capturing the other man's mouth with his, lips too dry and chapped still managed to pour all the tenderness into the kiss Sokka could muster. It was brief by necessity but they still stayed together pressed forehead to forehead for as long as they dared.

Then some signal made them start a convoluted dance; Zuko offering up his boot while Sokka turned his back to blindly retrieve the multitool from its hiding place. Sokka didn't need to see to find the tool's knife and in a second his hands were free and in another Zuko was free as well.

Sokka drew a hesitant breath, hoping they weren't about to jump straight from the frying pan into the fire. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Zuko answered with a firm nod and they began to move.

* * *

Tashakkur- thank you


	25. Chapter 25

A/N So here we are. A chapter I've had in my head for the better part of a year. Hope this makes sense to everyone who reads it. Feedback greatly appreciated.

Warnings for this chapter: slash relationship, much violence, much angst

* * *

Small noises became big ones from the echo off roughly hewn stone walls of their cell. Every movement was explosively loud and Sokka was sure anyone could hear him breathe from a mile away, hear his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest in the next town over. He felt too exposed standing in the middle of the room as he was but he was ready. Toying with the old lantern in his hand, he tried to make it eke out just a little more light for their meager surroundings. A quick inspection confirmed their cell held little of anything but rock, rock and more rock.

Though if the approaching sounds were any indication, this was about to change.

Zuko had his back flush against the stone that framed the entrance, listening to the guard's approach with every ounce of being. When the time was right, gold eyes flashed Sokka's way. An exchange of terse nods and Sokka responded by blacking out their only source of light.

Just outside the entrance, those footsteps turned cautious at the sudden change. A beam from a small flashlight appeared, cutting through the blackness to sweep through the room. The beam unerringly went to where two prisoners should have been.

"_Sanga_?" came the startled voice out of the dark, light whipping back and forth as the guard fairly ran into the cell to search for what had been lost.

Sokka squinted as the harsh light fell square across his face. He made sure he was every ounce a casual man. "How's it goin'?"

Half blinded, there was no way Sokka could make out what happened next. His ears told him everything he needed to know: the cut off gurgle of someone being struck just as they began to yell. A scuffle and the flashlight managed to extinguish itself once it hit the floor. Another thump, much heavier this time, told him something joined it there.

He coaxed the ancient lantern in his hand to life. A rush of relief ran through him at the sight of Zuko standing over a limp form. "You good?" Sokka whispered.

"Better than this guy." Zuko looked up, flush with success. "He'll have one nasty headache when he wakes up."

Sokka made an awkward hop to the door, listening for any hint of discovery as Zuko went through the guard's pockets. "Anything useful?" he asked at Zuko's grumbling.

"A whole lot of nothing." Zuko sliced the dilapidated rifle strapped to the unconscious man's back with the blade of the multitool. "And what is this bullshit?" With a snap to quickly fold it, he tossed the multitool to Sokka to better examine the rifle. Slinging back a handle, he ejected a spent bullet casing to the floor before adding a fresh bullet to the chamber. "Fucking bolt action. Straight out of World War Two."

"Shitty reload time." Sokka pursed his lips in disdain. "It'd be faster to throw bullets at people but it's a better weapon than this thing." He waggled the multitool before stowing it away. "Let's go."

Fuck. Moving on his injured leg ranked somewhere between taking a blowtorch to his calf and a swift shot to the balls but Sokka could move faster with the bandage offering torn muscles and nerves some support. Zuko no longer had to bear all of his weight as they steadily made their way through the darkness and that was all that mattered.

The sheer insanity of what they were attempting was not something either was willing to dwell on for long. Picking through a labyrinth with only a vague idea of the way out? Underneath a mountain that was stuffed to the gills with a fuck ton of explosives? Yeah. Best not to be distracted by a few gaps in their plan when the alternative ended up with them dead or worse.

They forged ahead, Sokka counting each step, replaying the path they'd taken over and over in his head. Left here. Ten paces. Right…. no, left again. God damn it. Dehydration had Sokka's head throbbing. What little water they'd been given had turned into sweat far too quickly. So hard to think. Too easy to get turned around and getting lost meant a death sentence.

Tension grew with each step they took, both sure at any moment a patrol of unfriendlies would come out of nowhere. One close call had them scrambling back into the dark, both men not so much as risking a breath when they were passed by more than a few murky shadows.

Those who passed were deep in conversation, not particularly vigilant in their search if you could call it that. Had the escape gone unnoticed? Unlikely, but every second of freedom before all hell broke loose was precious no matter what the reason.

"We've got to get out of these tunnels," Zuko whispered with a haggard breath.

"Almost there," was Sokka's answer. There was only one exit that they knew of for sure and it lay up ahead. At least, he hoped it was up ahead.

One more turn and there was a hint of natural light. Zuko flew towards it, dismissing the crates of artillery shells that had so horrified them what seemed a lifetime ago. He scooted down, inspecting what he could see of the outside world. "Nobody out there." Zuko was tight lipped and grim. "The patrols will probably concentrate on the tunnels so we'll be in the clear out once we're topside."

This sounded dubious at best. Sokka tried to wet his lips but his mouth was far too dry for that. "You really think so?"

"No." Zuko's determination crumbled into a weak smile. "But what choice do we have?"

Good god, the man was so much hope and hopelessness inextricably wound together; it made Sokka ache down to the marrow of his bones. He ignored Zuko's expectant look to shuffle to the crates unaided. "C'mon," he muttered to himself as he desperately searched above, behind and below. "_C'mon_!"

"What are you doing?" Zuko asked with open concern. "Let's go. We don't have much time."

"You think they'd only keep these shells in here?" Sokka muttered as he delicately lowered a box to the floor. "There's _got _to be something more than just this stuff. Some water. Food, even. How much storage space can there _be_ inside a mountain? Maybe there's a gun that doesn't take ten minutes to reload or… or a radio-"

Haphazardly rearranging the crates only revealed more of the same. Mounting frustration had Sokka being less careful with the heavy shells until-

A small box instantly had all of his attention. It would have been a shiny red if it weren't caked in a layer of dirt.

Breathlessly, Sokka pulled the small container to him, so distinctly different from everything else around him that every sense he had fixated on it. He popped open the clasp, lid springing open as if it had been eagerly awaiting for someone to do so.

"Fuck," was all he could manage.

At his shoulder, Zuko craned his neck to look. "What? What is it?"

There were wires. Lots and lots of wires, each connected to long, thin cylinders of metal that looked almost like they could be bullets but not quite; detonators. Fuses. With these were an assortment of digital timers; the cheap kind that little kids used to wear as wristwatches. All of it packed away neatly, waiting to be put to use.

"Jesus," Zuko whispered, echoing Sokka's own unease. The components looked so simple, so innocent, yet their presence was fully ominous. "They could assemble a few thousand IEDs from all this, easily."

"Yeah, about that," Sokka answered, unable to take his eyes from what was in his hands. "How 'bout we give it a try?"

"_What_?" The question shot out of Zuko much louder than he intended. "There is no _fucking_ way I'm going to help you put together a _bomb_!"

"Why not? We've seen enough of these in action to build one," Sokka asked softly, the words coming from his own mouth sounding like they were being said by someone else. "Even if it's a dud, it'll keep them plenty busy if it looks halfway convincing." He pulled out a detonator with trembling fingers. "If it _does_ work, there'll be a chain reaction and every single shell in here goes off. They'll have bigger things to worry about than us."

"What if it works _too_ well?" Zuko hissed out his anger, what little sweat he could manage beading up on his forehead. "Ending up a bloody stain under a pile of rubble isn't a good escape plan!"

Sokka met Zuko's fury with a chilling finality. "We _need_ this." His whole body was numb, the logical part of his brain forcing these clinical thoughts out into the open. "You know we do. We have to even up the odds _somehow _or this whole thing will be over before we know it."

A wordless noise clawed its way from deep within Zuko's chest. Too much like a wounded animal. Full of anger and despair, anguish and frustration, his calm exterior shattered as Zuko threw a naked fist at the wall. Once more and his knuckles were bleeding freely.

Sokka moved to offer what comfort he could but Zuko had already composed himself, fast as lightning.

"Okay," Zuko finally said with no small tremor to his voice. "Where do we start?"

As one, they pieced together what fragments they knew from memory. Zuko prepared one of the shells as Sokka tore open one of the watches. A few wires and the detonator in the right place and they were ready. It seemed frighteningly simple but they'd been warned this was the case. It was why this had become the tool for when one required lethal results.

They sat and stared at this brand new bomb, perched atop the pile of death that still managed to look wholly innocuous.

There was one last question that needed asking and it stuck in the back of Sokka's throat. "How much time?"

How much time did they need to run like hell?

Zuko blanched at the thought. "Thirty minutes? Enough time to clear out, not so much that if they catch us that we end up back here."

A few pushes of the timer's plain buttons. They both held their breath and Sokka gave one final press.

30:00

29:59

29:58

"Thank god," Sokka exhaled in one long shaky sigh. "Phase one of not blowing ourselves up complete. Let's work on phase two-"

A crunch of dirt underfoot let them know they were no longer alone.

Zuko snapped to attention, rifle at his shoulder, taking a bead on the wide eyed man who stood frozen at the room's entrance.

The man was young, his youth hidden under his long beard. Couldn't have been more than seventeen for fuck's sake. Barely a man. Fright radiated off of him as his eyes wavered between the gun aimed at his chest and the timer that continued its countdown.

29:45

29:44

"Hey!" Sokka shouted, waving the young man down. "You understand English?"

The man began to babble in Pashto, his words running together in a jumble.

Fuck. Guess that meant 'no'.

"Listen!" Sokka barked back in desperation. The man fell into silence. "See that?"

Terrified eyes followed the gesture Sokka made towards the IED.

Sokka prayed his voice wouldn't crack. "There are ten of these-" He held out both hands, fingers splayed wide. "Scattered all over this mountain."

Eyes didn't blink as Sokka waved his hand through the air.

"You've got a little over twenty minutes!" Sokka flashed his hands twice more. "Twenty minutes before this place goes _boom_! Got it?"

28:45

28:44

Apparently there were some things that transcended all languages because the young man took off at a sprint, calls of alarm echoing through the tunnels.

Zuko let out a lungful of air. "You're a brilliant, lying bastard."

"I love you too," Sokka said, almost laughing in delirium. "Let's get moving."

The crack in the earth was a lot easier to crawl through when they had no equipment weighing them down. On the outside, there was a whole lot of furious yelling and moving of vehicles. Sounded like the two soldiers weren't the only ones fleeing the area, though they elected to head in the opposite direction from all the noise and bluster.

They moved carefully, methodically, knowing full well that these first few minutes of an escape attempt were critical. Completely unshielded from the desert sun, they sprinted from cover to cover, just as much to reach some shade as to remain undetected. Squawking radios gave away the positions of sentries, easy to dodge when order after order was being shouted at those who would otherwise have remained silent.

Evening would be a long time coming with the midday heat inexorably pressing down on them with a brutal hand. With that, the treacherous terrain was both a help and a hindrance. Every rock, every outcropping, every boulder meant the perfect hiding spot for themselves but would have been just as useful for anyone else in need of stealth. It was hard to not feel like eyes weren't watching them with every step but they forged ahead anyway.

They had to.

Head pounding, Sokka peeked around his hiding spot for as long as he dared. "There's a canyon entrance up ahead. Might be a better place to hole up until nightfall."

Zuko looked just as exhausted as Sokka felt, both of them flush faced and panting in the unrelenting heat. "Sounds good." Continuing on ahead, Zuko scanned the skyline for more sentries. "How much time do we have left?

Sokka snuck a look down at his watch. "A little under nine minutes." He reached for the rocky outcropping next to him with a laugh, using the support to move himself along. "It'll be kind of funny if it turns out to be a dud and they evacuated for noth-"

There was a world of pain as something came down hard on Sokka- right where the bandage wrapped his calf.

Fire raced up his injured leg, muscles burning from the inside out. It was too much like an electrical charge shooting up his spinal cord and Sokka collapsed to the ground with a low moan. Self preservation forced him to swallow his scream. Helplessly, he collapsed on all fours, blinking his tears away enough to see a shadow looming over him.

"You've. Ruined. _Everything_!"

Azula.

No. This was not Azula.

No longer the calm, cool girl that barely batted an eyelash when she aimed to kill. Not even the glimpse of something damaged that they'd seen when she'd had come to them demanding answers could have prepared him for this.

This was some snarling, spitting beast.

"Months, years.. _a lifetime_ of sacrifice for nothing! _Nothing_!" she howled.

Her booted heel came down on Sokka's leg again with surgical precision and there was no way that he could keep from crying out that time. Agony made his vision turn grey around the edges.

"Azula!" Zuko was rough and raw as he called out his sister's name. The rifle in his hands, however, didn't waver. "Get away from him!"

"Zuko." The seething animal disappeared, replaced with doe eyed softness with mercurial speed. "You wouldn't hurt your sister, would you?" Azula was pitch perfect as she added a note of horror. "We're family!"

"Stop it! Stop talking!" he snapped back, face screwed up in misery. "Just back away from him! _Now_!"

"Of course," she said, meekly taking a few steps back. "Whatever you say."

That alone set alarm bells ringing, but there was no time to react. With that same lightning speed that Sokka had witnessed once before, here he was for the second time in his life staring down the barrel of Azula's gun.

Sokka felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine at the maelstrom that lay behind her eyes.

"Hmm," she mused breezily as if Sokka wasn't there. "You might still be useful."

Azula's whole demeanor changed, any sign of weakness evaporating into nothing.

"Drop your weapon, Zuzu!" she said curtly. "We don't need any accidents."

Silence reigned for what seemed like hours before Sokka shattered it. "Zuko! Don't do it! You have to-"

The muzzle that jabbed against Sokka's sunburned forehead was painfully hot.

"Quiet," Azula murmured just within the range of his hearing, not easing up on the gun's pressure agains his skin one little bit.

Didn't dare move, didn't dare breath. Sokka just sat there, feeling every second pass, becoming a full minute and then-

"Good boy," whispered Azula.

Sokka thought her words were meant for him until his heart sank at the sound of a rifle being tossed to the ground. There was a dent in his forehead from the gun that stayed with him even as Azula smoothly backed away.

"Over here please." She gave the order as if to a disobedient child. "I'd like to keep my eye on both of you."

Shuffling forward with great reluctance, Zuko brushed a gentle hand against Sokka's shoulder. "You good?"

"Yeah." Still on his knees, Sokka looked up with a bitter smile. "You?"

Zuko let out a puff of air. "Could be better. How much time is left?"

Sokka took his time musing on this. "Ten seconds. Maybe less."

"What.. what are you two little lovebird going on about?" Azula demanded, suddenly cross. She backed even further away from them, radiating suspicion. "What have you _done_?"

"We'll all find out soon enough," Zuko said with no trace of humor.

"They were whining about it over the radio. You made a bomb…" Her voice cracked. "It was _real_?"

There was something soft, indefinable; a low rumble in the distance. It began to build. And build.

And build.

Sokka could feel the vibrations underneath him as the earth _moved_.

Great big billowing clouds of dust blew out of every crack, every hole that had been hidden in the hillside. Air forced its way out through the path of least resistance, turning what they breathed into a choking, sooty mess. The sound of the mountain rending itself in two was both terrible and awesome to hear and in a cascade that was impossible to fathom, the side of the mountain caved in like a sandcastle that had been struck by a wave.

"Whoa," Sokka whispered and turned wide-eyed to Zuko. "I guess it worked."

But Zuko wasn't there.

Somehow the jaw dropping devastation hadn't caught the man's attention at all the man at all. Zuko was instead edging nearer to his sister as she stood watching, aghast. Sokka was following his lead, hoping to help. What could he use? All he had was the goddamned multitool. Fuck, if she didn't notice, in a second they'd get close enough to jump her and-

Somehow, she noticed.

Maybe it was from Azula working on animal instinct, because as she turned there was very little humanity left in her. She bared her teeth at them, the explosion awakening something fierce and feral. "Back! Back! Get back!" She was nimble on her feet, springing away from her brother's lunge with a powerful move that would have been called elegant in any other circumstance.

Her gun came to bear but not at Zuko and with none of the steadiness it once had.

"This can still work!" she shouted at Sokka, tears streaming down her twisted up face. There was no where he could go that her gun wouldn't follow. "You've just made a little mess I need to clean up."

Zuko spoke with the tone one would use on a frightened horse. "Don't do this. Please."

She continued on as if he hadn't said a thing. Sokka still had all of her attention. "One dead soldier! That's all I need. Kill one of their own and the grunts that find you won't look twice before scorching the earth for miles around!"

"You're going to trick the Army into bombing this place? Destroy the evidence…" Zuko asked before he realized he was even doing so. "But those men… you faked the raid. You brought them the weapons from the Pakistani warehouse-"

"Oh, Zuzu. Always two steps behind," she sighed, as if noticing him for the first time. "You weren't supposed to get this far. You were supposed to die a hero." Her tears continued to fall, even though she was almost wistful. "So Father could be proud of you for once. "

There was no way Sokka could let that go unchallenged. "She arranged the embassy bombing," he said softly. "She thought I was you."

"I _told_ you to be _quiet_!" she roared back with murder in her eyes.

Head pounding, Sokka forced himself to his feet. No way would he let himself die on his knees. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, desperate to keep the tremor from his voice.

Azula laughed as if this were the funniest joke in the world. "Well, that's another mistake I can fix right now."

Jesus, fuck- the last thing Sokka ever expected was to be in this situation again.

Looking down the end of a gun.

Life in the hands of a sociopath.

No armor this time. No luck from the looks of it either.

God, time had slowed so much, he could see her squeezing the trigger.

A wave of calm swept through him. At least now there was one regret he wouldn't have. Hell, he'd say it one last time. "I love you, Z-"

Suddenly, impossibly, there was someone blocking the path right in front of him and before Sokka could do anything at all the gun sounded.

It was so very, very loud.

"Zuko," Sokka finished softly, his heart breaking into a thousand little pieces.

There was none of the recoil, no getting thrown backwards when someone got shot. That was bullshit. That was what happened in the movies. No. There was none of that. What happened when someone got shot was what happened now. The body Sokka knew with aching familiarity- that had shielded him, protected him, _saved_ him- simply collapsed into his arms.

A dead weight.

No! Not dead! Can't be dead!

Gun still smoking in her hand, Azula stared at them; face full of shock and confusion.

There was no way for Sokka to support a full grown man, not with his leg. Together, the two soldiers tumbled to the ground, Sokka rolling into the fall to stop anything worse happening to the unresponsive form he clung to so desperately.

The routine had been ingrained in Sokka and right now he didn't give a flying fuck what Azula would do. Even with the pounding pain in his skull, in his chest, in his _heart_ he did it.

Get Zuko on his back. Done. Check pulse. Weak, thready. Was Zuko breathing?

A hint of blood appeared at the corner of the man's mouth.

Fuck!

_Fuck_!

He knew he shouldn't, but Sokka looked up. Azula was still watching them, though for the first time she looked very much her youthful age.

"_Why_?" he demanded in a broken sob, head swimming. "Why do any of this?"

"Chaos," she answered with a hint of surprise, as if this should have been obvious. "War has kept this region from becoming a threat. The global balance of power would be completely disrupted if they succeeded in setting aside their petty ethnic differences." Her words came almost by rote. This speech had been asked of her many times before.

"So that's it?" he asked in disbelief. "You work both sides to keep this country in a never-ending war?"

She looked pleased at his revelation, happy that someone finally understood. "Of course. It's worked for us for nearly half a century. Governments are too complacent or turn a blind eye. That's where we come in. No law of consequence, no treaty binds us. We are strong so we do what needs doing."

Sokka wanted to retch, not from his dizziness but from the evangelical light in her eyes. "That's insane!"

Good lord, but that was the wrong thing to say. Azula went from calm to wild eyed in the blink of an eye. "If that's the case, it won't be a concern of yours anymore, now will it?"

The gun that had settled at her side was raised again and Sokka didn't care.

"_Wadarega_!"

The last thing Sokka expected to see popped up behind the girl with the gun.

"Aang!" he choked out in disbelief. Was he hallucinating? "How…. Get the fuck out of here!"

Azula quickly recovered from her shock. "The little street rat! He came back to find you. That's so cute!" She took aim at the small, scruffy boy with no hesitation. "And convenient too."

A surprise blast of wind stirred up the dirt between them. Sokka was on all fours, throwing himself over Zuko's too-still form as the harsh sand tore into unprotected skin.

The young boy hopped from rock to rock with the ease of a mountain goat, unphased by the miniature sandstorm.

"Hold still, you little brat!" Azula hissed, wind tearing at her hair. She inadvertently danced within Sokka's reach, bringing her weapon to bear on Aang once more.

Before he even knew he had done it, before he could even process such a thing, the multitool was open in Sokka's hand and he rose up to plunge its blade into her thigh.

Azula screamed- not in pain, but fury- as her shot went wide and Aang flitted away unharmed.

There was a spray of blood as Sokka drew the blade out to try again but his reactions were slow, the heat and dehydration hitting him hard. He didn't see the kick coming but he felt it, swift and hard to the side of his head.

Dizziness ramped up a hundred fold. The world was spinning as Sokka flopped onto his back.

"No more!" Azula roared, towering over him, blood leaving a messy trail down her pant leg. "We're ending this now!"

Sokka fought to concentration but his feet were tingling. Fuck. Was that sunstroke? Dehydration?

Did it matter?

He could see the gun in her hand.

Another shot. Weird. It sounded like it came from far away.

And he was still alive. Also weird.

Azula was screaming in full frenzy, clutching at her bloodied hand.

Wait. _She_ was the one who'd been shot?

Sokka struggled to sit up and holy crap, he must have been hallucinating because the tallest woman he'd ever seen in his life appeared out of nowhere. The woman was well over six foot tall with massive feet that would have done any Ranger proud. That is if a Ranger decided to dress like a six foot plus Kuchi woman.

She went up to Azula with no fear though why would she? The raging girl looked like a tiny child as the woman bound Azula's wrists behind her back.

They all watched for a moment, wondering if after a brief struggle the girl would settle but it was not to be. She continued to thrash as if this might somehow set her free. "No," was the only word Sokka could understand and Azula said it over and over again. "No!"

With his attacker contained, Aang ran to the Kuchi woman in delight. "_Kyoshi_!

The big woman broke into an even bigger smile, making Aang stumble as she patted him on the back with one huge hand. It turned to a small frown though as she looked past them all.

"_Roku_!" the giant woman called out into the distance. "_Wasla dee parmzaka kegda!"_ She waved a big hand in summons. "_Delta raasha!"_

Her invitation was answered by an old man, tall and willowy. Paler than the average Kuchi too, but they were nomads right? A flowing white beard went with his flowing white hair. The wizened man held the bolt action rifle in his hands and he ejected the spent cartridge inside it with expert efficiency.

His hallucination woman kneeled at Sokka's side, passing him a canteen of water. "_Moong delta raghlee yu che staase sara maresta wukru_."

Sokka was not so bad that he couldn't process some of what she was saying. "Here to help," he whispered back to her then- "Zuko! You have to help Zuko!"

Too disoriented to stand, Sokka crawled on hands and knees to where Zuko still lay motionless. Uncaring as he wiped the blood on the blade away on his sleeve, he sliced through the tough fabric of Zuko's jacket.

Something about the motion made Zuko cough and Sokka was elated to hear some sign of life. "Zuko? Stay with me. Please. You have to hold on."

"_Eeehh_!" This was from the old man as he peered into the distance, his binoculars almost as old as he was. "_Komak raara segee_!"

Sokka wasn't paying attention. The bullet hole in the jacket was plain as day as he peeled what was left of it away and he expected to find a pool of blood underneath.

But there was none.

Blood wasn't the only thing missing. The shirt. The not-so-fancy-shirt that he'd teased Zuko for wearing had no bullet hole.

Running his hands over the not-so-fancy shirt in amazement, Sokka was horrified at the grind of bone on bone. Many bones on bones. Sokka jumped back in alarm at Zuko's soft moan of pain.

Much more gently this time, he tried again; he had to see what was underneath. Sokka lifted the edge of his shirt to slice it away as delicately as he could.

The little multitool, the one that had cut through rope and flesh with equal ease, couldn't cut into a simple t-shirt. Not at all. Sokka sawed at it and got nowhere, his head throbbing in his confusion.

"_Komak raara segee!"_ The old man repeated this with a thump to Sokka's shoulder.

In a daze, he looked up.

There was a helicopter. The best fucking helicopter in the whole wide world, patterned with its tans and greens; it was on the move and heading their way fast.

Aang was bouncing up and down as if calling the rescue team to him, waving like a maniac with the radio Sokka had given him in his hand.

_Komak raara segee_

Slumping to the ground, Sokka breathed a sigh of relief. Vision turning grey around the edges, he looked to Zuko.

Help is on the way.

There was the tiniest of tiny breaths as he watched Zuko's shattered ribs rise and fall and Sokka smiled.

Help is on the way.

Unconsciousness proved too hard to resist.

* * *

Pashto translations:

Sanga? How?

Wasla dee parmzaka kegda- put down your weapon

delta raasha- come here

moong delta raghlee yu che staase sara maresta wukru- We are here to help you.

komak raara segee- help is on the way


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: This chapter makes some callbacks to previous chapters and because I update slower than a sloth on Xanax, it may be best to have the rest of the story fresh in your mind.

As always, feedback greatly appreciated.

Warnings for medical descriptions.

* * *

Raw, unfiltered sun bearing down on him was not something Zuko expected to feel again. To be honest, he hadn't expected to feel anything.

Ever.

Not after that earsplitting crack of a gun, the explosion of pain and then…

Nothing.

Now there was noise. Thrumming, humming. A rhythmic pulse of vibrations that rumbled through the marrow of his bones.

The whole of him was numb. Hands. Feet. There was only pressure in his chest, making it a struggle to breathe. Heart struggled in its hammering, an invisible hand gripping it in a vise.

At least not dead. Not yet.

He'd been here before, this dark and terrible place. It was hard to hold on, dancing on the edge.

It shouldn't have been any worse a second time but it was. There'd been more of a child's hope when he hadn't known of the road that lay before him. How much struggle went on through new scars, new suffering. And now, he was forewarned.

So much easier to just let go.

Except he wouldn't.

He couldn't. This was no longer just about him. Not if there might have been some chance he was still necessary. Not if there was some miniscule way he could be of use.

Eyes cracked opened with agonizing slowness. Zuko shoved any doubts aside to make way for bright, blue sky.

Wisps of clouds weaved in a sinuous dance around the horizon, the world shifting over and under him-

No.

_He_ was moving. Or someone was moving _him_.

A stretcher. Zuko could feel the rough fabric underneath him, straps running across his torso to keep him pinned in place.

Panic spiraled up and up at this simple confinement. Agony radiated through his chest as he moved, bone shifting against fragmented bone as he struggled both the inside and out.

Recaptured. Prisoner again.

A soft moan escaped him as he tried to dig into what reserves he had left and came up empty.

The inarticulate cry attracted attention. A slim silhouette appeared within his field of vision; a floating head bobbing alongside him as he was carried. What details Zuko could make out revealed a uniform in welcome colors, triggering a wellspring of relief.

He forced the air from his lungs. "Sss… Sssokka-"

"Hey!"

The greeting was warm. That part was familiar enough but the voice…

Zuko willed his eyes to acclimate, desperate for more detail. He could see a smile. Fragile hope built for the sake of hoping and it burst like a soap bubble when he could finally make out that the smile came from the wrong face.

The soldier who was not Sokka covered them both with cheer. "Mighty glad you could join us."

The man's thick Texan drawl poured over Zuko like honey, thick and cloying, too unlike the voice he'd hoped to hear.

"Try not to talk, son. Figure I can do plenty a that for us both." Producing a field knife, the medic lifted the edge of Zuko's shirt. A few futile passes of the blade later and the Texan scratched at his head in blank astonishment. "Shee_it_! We gon' have ourselves a little chat about this after we get you all tucked up in our helo."

You. Not both. Not two. Just _you_.

A sense of urgency had Zuko trying to sit up before his body let him know this was a very bad idea. Barely moving a millimeter and a hot spike of pain knifed through his torso. In his battle to breathe again he felt something awkward and plastic bracing his neck.

A cervical collar.

Pragmatism tried to reassure him that it was nothing out of the ordinary; just the usual business of transporting an injured man but the unyielding restriction around him set off into a fit. _This_ was what confined him, not weakness, not injuries. He was still alive, wasn't he? Surviving what should have been unsurvivable. He needed to get off his ass and _this_ was to blame for making him so fucking _useless_. Break out of it and he could find Sokka, find out what happened. If he was free of it, he could do… something. He could…. he needed….

He needed to _breathe_.

His struggles began inside himself as much as anything else.

"Whoa there," The Texan's drawl softened to a soothing touch that had hidden behind all that easy bravado. "Maybe you didn't notice, but your ass has been pretty well kicked! Me and my crew wanna help you but you gotta let us do our job." The smile came back wider than before. "Try to take it easy so we can get you saved."

Saved.

What a meaningless word. Zuko only had one question and no way to ask it.

Eyes too heavy to remain open, he focused instead on the sounds that permeated the air around him.

The crackle of radios was almost tangible, bursts of static leaving marks on his skin. Voices shouted out from tiny speakers, completely incomprehensible over the whoosh of helicopter blades though from the sounds of things the Texan had no problem understanding them.

"Yeah, this is two oh four victor," the soldier barked into his radio, folksy twang disappearing when work needed to be done. "We're doin' a CASEVAC in sector alpha four zero niner. We got bad guys in the area. Loadin' up both our boys right now…"

Both.

_Both_.

Zuko flinched as fingers caught him off-guard to pry his eyelids apart. A sharply defined beam of light hit the back of his eye, a palpable heat boring into his retina. Just as quickly it was gone, leaving behind ghosts of an image that wriggled across his vision.

He could still make out the Texan, though. The medic had lost a little of his spit and shine. "You'd best be ready for 'em. We'll take good care of 'em till we get there. Two oh four victor out."

They were close enough to the Blackhawk now that a strong downdraft kicked up by its rotors drove sand to bite at every piece of exposed skin. There was a jolt and many hands hefted Zuko in mid air, stretcher being hauled into the helicopter.

Zuko concentrated on drawing a breath, knowing one way or the other he might not get another chance to be heard. "A…Am-" The effort of a whisper felt like he was dragging his lungs through shards of glass. "Amaruq."

The Texan radiated astonishment. "Din't we already go over that 'no talkin' thing, you stubborn sumbitch?" He leaned in to shout over the deafening wall of sound. "You want ta know about the other private, ain'tcha? Don't you worry about him, son! We got the best of the best workin' on 'im. Well, not _the_ best, 'cause that would be _me_."

The next part came out as a roar well over Zuko's head. "Now will somebody get me a flutter valve and a pair of gotdamned bolt cutters?"

There was a whirlwind of movement and locks were bolted home, securing Zuko into a bay inside the Blackhawk. The Texan stayed with him though, fishing for something in a pocket. "I see I need ta put your mind at ease."

His efforts produced a square of metal; a signal mirror.

The mirrored surface had seen better days, but Zuko couldn't look away.

There. There in the blurry, scratched up reflection was what he'd been looking for. It took a moment to see beyond the crew of medics working on a pale, unconscious form but there he was; Sokka, battered and bloodied but _alive_.

"Both you boys are gonna be all right." The brief glimpse was over once the bolt cutters arrived. The Texan took them with a roar of satisfaction. "Now that's what I'm talkin' bout!"

Even with pure brute force, it took the Texan more than one try to chew through the mystery fabric. "Damn, boy," he snarled, sweat beading up on his forehead at his labors. "Shit's harder to get in to then my date on prom night!"

One last grunt and the fabric gave way, stopping just short of a defect in the fabric that sat atop bruises blossoming over Zuko's heart.

A defect about the size of a bullet.

The medic whistled out a single long, low note. "Got_damn_! This shit's bullet proof? Who do I gotta blow to get me some a this magic underwear?"

The Texan was moving again and Zuko barely felt the needle that was inserted between his ribs. The vise that had gripped him for what felt like an eternity eased and he sucked down lungful after lungful of air, the pressure that had tried to suffocate him disappearing with the medic's intervention.

"Easy there, cowboy! I told you we'd take care a you." The weathered face turned serious for a moment. "And we'll take care a your boy too."

The world was a blur under new tears and Zuko permitted himself to hope once more. The pin prick to his arm was nothing and a wave of heat shot up his veins. He fought the anesthetic's slow, creeping lassitude just for a moment.

"Thank…," he began, not even getting to finish before the drugs pulled him into a deep slumber.

* * *

Hot. Hot. So hot. Holy fucking god he was HOT.

Sokka sweated through wave after wave of heat, his skin feeling incandescent. He was in and out of awareness, lost in a turbulent then and now.

Eyes like honey.

Wounded leg on fire.

Whiskey and toothpaste on his tongue.

The world turning grey around the edges from a blow to the head. Once. And then again.

Fancy hotel soap and kisses raining down his back.

The weight of a body falling into his arms limp and lifeless.

No. No. _No. _

Help had come. He'd _seen_ it. Sokka fought against his fever bright imaginings. Hands holding him down came at precisely the wrong moment and Sokka fought them too.

"Shee_it,_ Amaruq! I don't need one more thorn in my side!"

The use of his name was a lifeline and Sokka clung to it with the world spinning dizzily around him. The cool touch to his forehead was completely unexpected and his jerk of surprise got his injured leg throbbing once more.

"Woowee! You are _burnin'_ up!" came the voice again.

Ice cold wetness lay across his forehead, pushing the curtain back on his fog.

Help. Help _had _come and in the form of a crusty faced medic if Sokka could trust that this was no hallucination.

The jab of a catheter in his arm assured him that it was not. Sokka tried to look beyond the man tending him but vertigo slammed him back into stillness.

"Listen up, son." The medic kneeled next to him, shaking up an IV bag. "You need a whole lot a this special cocktail. I'll warn ya- this shit will make you wanna hurl from the bottom a your boots but we need ta get your temp down. Especially with that knock to your noggin'."

Sokka wasn't sure if he would have understood a damn word of what the man had said even if he had been in perfect health. He forced his tongue to move though it felt too big for his mouth. "There were two of us. Another private. He was hurt. Did you... Is he-"

"The bulletproof kid?" the medic asked in breezy distraction, starting the drip with cool efficiency. "He's sleepin' like a baby. Got enough morphine in 'im to bring down a steer."

This convoluted confirmation was more of a balm that anything the medic could have given him. Sokka settled back against the cold, hard deck as the man above him continued to poke and prod.

"What you got hidin' under there?" Scissors made short work of the bandage around his calf and in a heartbeat Sokka was writhing as it was peeled away.

"Sorry, sorry." The murmured apology was genuine but Sokka heard none of it as liquid fire lanced up his leg.

A silver whistle of appreciation once the bandage was finally gone. "That's gonna need a bit a work but this is a lot better than I was expectin'."

"They cleaned me up," Sokka whispered, silently thanking a nameless man for a moment of kindness. "When we were captured."

The medic let out a grunt. "Good. Nobody should leave this world with less parts than they came in with just a some cooties."

The possibility of losing a limb sent a shiver through Sokka. "What about antibiotics? That's what you're giving me-"

"Son, there some nasty bugs out there that ain't no antibeeotic will _touch_. You count your blessin's that someone saw fit to get this bad boy as clean as they did."

The medic didn't bother looking up as he gently poked and prodded, aging a hundred years in a second. "Folks been dealin' with this since the first time brother raised hand against brother. They got fancier ways to heal but they got fancier ways to kill too so ain't much changed in the end. And it's you boys that pay the price."

With a soft touch, he began swabbing the torn, angry flesh with disinfectant. "Politicians need to be out here patchin' up what damage they cause. Get their asses on the front line and war would be what our kids would know from history books. Now wouldn't that be somethin'?"

Time stood still for a moment before good humor washed over the man's mercurial face. "Enough a that. You mind tellin' me what you boys been up to for the past couple a days? Looked like one hell of a clusterfuck, I'll tell you what."

Sokka latched on gratefully to the deliberate distraction. "I don't even know where to start."

"Don't matter." The medic had a thousand watt smile as he cracked open a roll of gauze. "As long as you tell me where your boy got that fancy shirt. I reckon it's the only thing that kept 'im from gettin' sent home in a pine box today."

The comment was meant to be casual, peppered with the dark humor that was a requirement to maintain a hold on one's sanity when one was awash in death and devastation.

But Sokka... Sokka was running on pure adrenaline and this only shattered his illusion of calm.

"We were so close. He could have-" He gulped and gulped for air, wondering when he might burst. "We almost-"

A hand settled against his cheek.

"Easy there." The medic looked exhausted and full of sympathy. "Begin at the beginnin'. That's usually a good place to start."

The beginning.

Which one?

The innocent act of smuggling in a bar of chocolate that gave him the best friend he'd ever have.

A monster tries to warp his son and ends up making his child more of a man than he'd ever be.

Or the laughing boy who led his own personal army wearing tattered sneakers.

No.

Not here or there or a million other places. Too much pain and joy and everything in between. Best to keep the story simple.

Even if it had never been simple.

"There was this house," Sokka began slowly, trying to stem the flood of words that demanded to be given voice. "We'd been sent to clear it but it was bigger on the outside. Like there were rooms that should have been there but weren't..."

* * *

_Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, Germany_

Zuko woke to a clear head for the first time in… in…

He had no clue. Painkillers made the passage of time coalesce into a swirl of minutes, hours, days.

There were vague memories of reaching Camp Phoenix. The last coherent thing he remembered was being bundled up alongside Sokka in the belly of a C-17 for the packed flight to Germany, clinging to a vain hope that they'd be housed together. It was no surprise that they were directed to different wards as soon as they touched down. Moments of lucidity were brief and all too infrequent in the ICU but he grabbed on to them and held them tight.

The fog continued to clear with every second that passed. Eyes fluttering open, he realized the scenery had changed. It wasn't hard to memorize the pattern on the ceiling when it was the only thing you got to stare at during your waking moments.

Out of the ICU. In his own room. Maybe now he could get to a phone, get out of this fucking bed and do _something_-

Willing his body to relax, he took a deep breath and began to take an accounting.

No headache. For once. Good.

Chest burning. Sort of bad. This was not entirely unexpected when there was a tube poking him in the lungs. Propped up as he was, shifting positions turned its small fire into a roaring blaze so that put an end to that.

His leg. Under attack by a swarm of pins and needles. Had he hurt his leg too? _Fuck_. When? The absence of memory of anything leading up to it set off an alarm.

And an abrupt snort that was not his own made whatever concern he had disappear under a cloud of confusion.

He peered tentatively through the dim light, stiff and aching from so much immobility.

What he found would have prompted him to laugh if he were able.

There was a chair pulled up to his bed, the jacketed half of an elegant suit hanging across the back of it like a cape. The softly snoring man seated in it was propped against his bed. This sleeping form half sprawled across Zuko's thigh with a battered copy of Army Times making a poor pillow.

Zuko slowly reached out to tuck back the snow white hair that jutted out haphazardly against the man's collar.

"H'lo, Uncle," he whispered, not quite sure if he could believe what he was seeing but desperately wishing it to be true.

The soft words and softer touch was enough to rouse the sleeper. Iroh blinked at him blearily, looking every one of his years with his eyes rimmed with red. "Zuko?"

Zuko let himself ease into a long, slow smile. "That shirt you sent me," he rasped, disuse making his voice heavy and full of smoke. "I think it needs a little work."

And a floodgate was opened.

"My boy!" Iroh sobbed over and over. For the first time in all that Zuko had known him, his uncle looked unsure of himself as he struggled to figure out how to hold his nephew without causing further harm. He settled on catching up Zuko's hand in his own, pressing it to his lips again and again. "My dear boy!"

They needed no words, only sharing quiet tears between them.

* * *

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

Smack.

Sokka tried to wet his lips but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Anesthetics still held him in their grip and his brain was addled. They'd kept him tied to an IV pole to pump him full of antibiotics for days before dragging his ass into surgery and his exhaustion didn't help either.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

Smack.

He shifted at the noise, feeling like a patchwork quilt with so many stitches in him. The nurse had told him that the nerve graft had gone well but he remembered little other than the advice to sleep it off. The likelihood of going batshit crazy cooped up in here was pretty high.

Especially since he hadn't been able to see Zuko since the day they'd landed at Ramstein.

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

Smack.

Landstuhl was a goddamned _maze_. It was hard enough searching its corridors but going through them wondering if the next room or the next was the one where his mom had-

They'd confiscated his crutches the third time he'd been busted on a night time excursion. After the surgery, he wasn't even allowed to walk at all, not until his incisions healed, anyway.

But Zuko was here. Somewhere.

And Sokka was going to find him.

Clatter, clatter-

God _damn_ it-

Sma-

What the _fuck_ was making that noise? Maybe it was more of a rattle. They didn't have poisonous snakes in Germany did they?

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

Smack.

Still no clue. Even his eyeballs were dry and he blinked wildly, trying to focus with the drugs helping him not at all.

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

Smack.

Finally, his vision cleared. Crouched on the floor well below his line of sight was a visitor.

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

Smack.

A kid.

…

A _kid_?

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

Smack.

She couldn't have been older than 16 or 17, looking as if hanging out on the floor of an Army hospital was no big thing. Rattle, rattle, rattle was the noise from her loose fist as she shook it with practiced ease. She threw out her hand, casting a set of dice across the floor. A smack as they hit the wall.

The dice were free of imperfections and beautifully made. The girl ran her hands over the top of them, caressing the pair of what was it… sandstone, maybe?

"Uhhh," Sokka tried, throat feeling like he'd gargled with wet concrete. "Hi?"

It came out as little more than a croak but the girl gathered up her dice at the sound to fling herself into the closest chair. "Cool. You're up."

She made herself comfortable by settling into a chair cross-legged, unconcerned about propping up bare feet that were filthier than the dirtiest latrine he'd ever seen. He tried to catch her gaze but she stared off into the distance, unruly black hair dancing in front of her eyes-

Her eyes.

A pale green but with a faint haze to them that made them even paler. Could she see at all?

He tried to swallow to sound less like Chewbacca, but it did little to clear his throat. "Do I know you?"

"No." She looked bored, fiddling with the dice in her hand. Her fingers traced the dimples marking each side. "I'm not some crazy creeper or something. My dad's base commander and he makes me come work at the hospital after school so I stay _safe_."

The word came out as if it were the most revolting swear word she could come up with.

"So I help with small stuff," she continued. "Deliver food, run errands-"

Sokka tried not to stare. "And play craps?"

"What? I'm just an innocent little army brat." Her head canted towards him as if she were listening for something. "I wouldn't know anything about a game like that. Maybe you can show me how it's done?" A single die tumbled expertly between her knuckles. "Start with a tiny bet and work our way up."

Shit. Getting hustled by a teenage girl wasn't exactly how he planned on spending the day. "I'm a little light on cash. Maybe later?"

"Sure." The girl shrugged the thought away. "Anyway, I'm here to give you something."

He didn't mean to snap but it came out that way. "What is it? From who?"

"Keep yer pants on!" Her raucous laugh could have come from a truck driver. "I forgot, you're not wearing any!"

Blushing to his knees, Sokka performed a hasty check. His hospital gown offered little protection.

"Quit worrying, princess!" With a smirk of pure evil, the girl searched her pockets. "Even if your assets were swinging in the breeze, I wouldn't be able to see a damn thing."

Her face twisted up as she continued her search. "Aha! Here it is."

In her hand was a paper flower. Sokka only got to see it for a second before the girl used the back of that same hand to take a casual swipe at her nose before she offered it to him again.

He turned green as he took it from her. Anybody got some boiling water? Or a vat of acid.

"Your uncle is a nice guy," the girl said softly, all of her good humor gone. "It's a shame he had to take off before you woke up."

Uncle? Sokka shot her a look of disbelief but could see she was earnest.

His curiosity took over as the flower's complexity became more apparent. Delicate folds and creases came together to make a perfect lotus. It seemed a crime to take it apart but the scribbling of a pen along its lines meant it had to be done. Gently unfolding section after section, the message unfurled for him with a message scrawled along a section of newspaper. It was in a tidy script, clean and simple and somehow familiar.

_My dear S-_

Confusion went to war with his inquisitiveness but it was only a split second before Sokka dove right back into the heart of it.

_I hope you pardon my informality but we are nearly family. Now that things have taken a turn for the better, I must see to other matters. I believe 104 is where you will find what you're looking for. In D ward. This lovely young lady may be able to offer some assistance. She's stronger than she looks. _

_-I_

_PS Don't forget both sides now. Time changes all of us but you must still __be patient._

"Don't forget both sides now," he murmured, heart racing. "He wants me to sing Joni Mitchell?"

Fingers snatched the creased paper from his hands before flipping it over. "He means read the other side, dummy!"

For a moment, Sokka couldn't tell what he was supposed to be looking for. A section torn from the Army Times, the date was from when they'd been out in the field. News had always been slow to get to them out there and it hadn't helped that they'd been hip deep in shit since then. He flipped it over and again, looking for a second note but he couldn't-

His hands went ice cold.

The headline was right in front of his face. Big and bold for all to see.

ASSOCIATED PRESS- CHIEFS: MILITARY WILL COMPLY WITH DADT REPEAL

Over and over again he read it, worried that the words might disappear from the page.

They didn't.

His heart threatened to jump straight out of his chest.

It was happening.

This was really happening.

"Are you…" The girl crinkled her nose at him. "Are you _crying_?"

Sokka clutched at his cheeks to find telltale wetness.

"No!" he shot back, though the crack in his voice didn't fool either of them. "You can wander around the hospital, right? Can you find a… a wheelchair or something?"

"Why?" the girl asked, an eager glimmer of mischief in her eye.

"'Cause you and me are going on a little road trip." He smiled big and wide for the first time in forever, not bothering to wipe his tears away. "We have to find room D104."


	27. Chapter 27

It's been a year since I've updated this and I am a huge douche. If anyone is still following this story, feedback is greatly appreciated.

* * *

Bullets coming down like rain. Looking down the wrong end of a loaded gun. Sitting underneath a giant powder keg and lighting the fuse when you were hurt and trapped and a million miles from nowhere. None of these things had Sokka crapping his drawers like riding through a hospital corridor- more specifically, _this_ ride through a hospital corridor.

Maybe asking a blind kid push you around in a wheelchair wasn't the best of decisions.

His knuckles blanched pure white under his armrest death grip. His chauffer had given him her name but it was long gone, lost somewhere in a haze of panic and a metric fuck ton of painkillers. Getting through the next few minutes with fewer injuries than he had going in was all he could focus on at the moment.

As a whole, that possibility wasn't looking too likely.

"Rightrightkeeprightholy_shit_!"

An empty gurney came a lot closer than Sokka would have liked. He took some pride that he flinched only a little. "_Fuck_!"

"Are you always this whiney?" Lil' Miss Ball Buster had a formidable cackle, sprinting to set a pace that had the whole damn place in a blur. "We're almost there and I haven't hit a damn thing, so quit yer bitching!"

"How about you make this a little more "Driving Miss Daisy-" he tried, clinging to the chair for dear life. "And a little less 'Grand Theft Au-oh my _god_!"

She took them both around a corner on two wheels and it put his stomach in his throat. A hard thud as he returned to Earth put his organs back where they belonged a little more forcefully than was absolutely necessary and they plowed on.

By the look of things, someone up ahead was going to experience the word 'plowed' a bit more literally in the next few seconds.

Not too many full birds on post but not fifteen meters away was the man himself, rail thin and sporting a stringy mustache that only an officer could ever wear without getting tossed out on his ear. The poor bastard was blissfully unaware of his impending doom, too involved in raiding a candy dish at the nurses' station.

Visions of courts-martial danced in Sokka's head and a question squeaked out of him, full of as much wretchedness as he could muster- which at this point was more than plenty. "Can we slow down a bit? I'd rather not TK a colonel today-"

"Colonel?" the girl echoed softly in his ear, the first hint of hesitation in her stride.

She hit the brakes full on and it hit Sokka _hard_. Momentum didn't like him very much either, nearly turning him into a human projectile when his chair came to a sudden halt while he didn't.

"Do we need to review the definition of 'a bit'?" he yelped before his squirming had him sucking in a breath between his teeth, wounds flaring up in sharp reminder that moving wasn't such a good idea.

"Shut yer yap!" was the hiss in his ear. "D'you want him to see us?"

His world got thrown into hard reverse and Sokka tried to keep his stomach from doing the same as the tiny girl threw a whole lot of guy into a full 180 before hauling ass in the opposite direction.

"Friend of yours?" Sokka asked weakly, concentrating more on his guts' attempt at open rebellion.

"Kind of!"

He'd been in plenty enough trouble growing up to know her tone by heart "That's your dad back there, isn't it?"

They took the turn from hell again and it had Sokka nearly biting off the tip of his tongue.

"What's the big deal?" he tried as they rattled back the way they'd come. "You said you're supposed to be here. Keeping your nose clean, right?"

There was a falter in her step but soon their pace accelerated. "Yeah.. about that…"

Well, fuck. Maybe 'suicide by colonel' would have been the better option.

"C'mon! Spill it!" he demanded. "If he finds me with you, I'll be hip deep in it too-"

"Okay, okay!" the girl shot back with the words he knew were coming. "I fudged the truth. A bit."

Together they bore down towards a large pair of automated doors with a blocky 'D' stenciled beside them and Sokka had to set his questions aside for a moment, making a desperate bid for a big red button that got the motor whirring everything open for them.

In the end, he didn't need to ask anything anyway, the girl's confession spilling out of her without any of his urging.

"I'm not supposed to be here at all," she murmured softly, this one moment leaving her stripped of all bravado. "He wants me cooped up, kept in my own little glass cage at home, so I bust out whenever I want." She laughed but there was no humor in it. "It was sort of a game. "

They plunged into an artificial twilight the instant they passed through the bay doors, the light kept much dimmer here than anywhere else they'd been and the girl slowed to a halt as soon as she stepped across the threshold.

Sokka _knew_ why without really knowing _why_, could feel it like a cold, hard slap in the face that had nothing to do with the darkness.

It took him a few seconds but he figured it out.

It was the beeping. Bells and dings and all sorts of noises from machines that Sokka couldn't identify but he still knew them for what they were- monitors shouting out signs of life, some of them doing a little less convincing job of that than others.

There was no way to shut it out no matter how much Sokka wanted to and god damn it, he wanted to.

"It was sort of a game at first-" the girl repeated and she was trapped in the same fugue. "But it turns out there's no game here."

Nurse after nurse whizzed past them, effortlessly sidestepping anything in their way, fully comfortable in what must have been a terrible, old dance. A sprinter jangled past at a new alarm, a young doctor barking orders over her shoulder with her stethoscope swinging like a pendulum in her haste.

Swallowing was tricky with Sokka's throat turning to sandpaper. Zuko was here somewhere and Sokka needed to find him.

_Now_.

D102. D103.

D104

The room had a little etched plate mounted by the door, its only purpose in life to hold a simple index card with the name of its current occupant.

PFC Gōjun, Z.

Sokka traced the sloppy script on the hand written card, a shiver passing through him all the way through to his fingertips. Messy and rushed as if the person writing it had little time to spare before having to move on to the next patient. The metal that ringed the card was horribly worse for wear, gunked up at the bottom with years of sticky nastiness from tape that had never come cleanly away between one patient and the next, between one life and the next.

The enormity of this place suddenly slowed his rush, feeling the weight of the story behind each layer of tape.

How many injured had been housed within these walls? Some left for better things. Some left in a body bag. Some never made it to this place at all.

Those like his mom.

Realization hollowed out a pit in his stomach. He'd always been the kid who missed his mom, with a child's awareness that his dad missed her, too. But Sokka never got it, never really knew what it meant to lose the love of your life.

Now, though- Sokka understood.

A nudge to his wheelchair reeled him back from heading into a tailspin.

"Get in there!" His personal savior had little patience for his bullshit. "I didn't cart your sorry ass here for nothing."

Sokka wet his lips, grateful for whatever bit of luck sent him this force of nature. "Gimme a hand."

The room was small and crammed with all sorts of equipment that Sokka didn't really want to think about. It was dark here too, but a little light stole over the frighteningly pale figure sleeping propped up against a wealth of pillows and blankets, suspended in a web of tubes and wires.

A willing shoulder offered Sokka support and he left the wheelchair behind, hopping to the frayed, padded chair already sitting in vigil at Zuko's side. He looked to the girl who'd brought him so far, hoping she could do just one more thing.

"Can…" he pleaded, the weight on his chest weighing him down. "Can you give us a sec? Just me and him. Please?"

There was no quip from the girl. No smart ass remark. "Got it," she said, in all solemnity.

That lasted for a grand total of three whole seconds before her smirk returned.

"I'll go park your ride," she finished smoothly, retreating with the wheelchair to afford them some small privacy.

Footfalls echoed through the corridors but none of that mattered. Zuko looked frail, machines keeping a tally on just how close to reality that was. Sokka forced himself to watch the rise and fall of breath, eking out some reassurance that it was far and away better than when he'd seen it at its worst.

He caught the hitch in rhythm and he immediately looked up to find eyes slowly opening, just as slowly gaining focus and-

A smile.

Weak and pale but _there_ and it was so, so sweet.

Too many emotions hit the floodgates all at once, arriving together in a mishmash too tangled to unwind. Laughter, crying, shouting, or maybe all three wanted to come out together but it was too big, too much.

"Hi," Sokka ground out instead, chest heaving.

Zuko drew a harsh breath, lungs rattling in the effort to speak. "You… okay?"

It came drawn out, the words jagged and raw and when Sokka answered, it came out much the same. "Am now."

An urge to hold on, to have something tangible between them had Sokka reaching out, even with Iroh's warning buzzing in his ear. Some things simply needed doing.

His hands had nowhere to go, nowhere safe to land in the myriad of bruises and tubes and god knew what else.

He drew closer, contorting himself to lay his head alongside Zuko, sharing a pillow so that he was near enough to whisper. "Thought I'd lost you."

Fingers sought him out, curling around the back of his neck and Sokka closed the distance, Zuko guiding him in. Their foreheads came together and Sokka shivered at the soft answer tickling his mouth, lips light as a feather against his own. "Not a chance."

The dam broke and there were smiles and tears and laughter that emptied the world of everything else, so much so that they never heard the heavy tread of approaching boots.

"Okay, Private Pain In My Ass!"

A giant of a man strolled in, the sergeant too absorbed in grumbling and jotting down notes to notice Sokka draw away. "You gonna take your meds without a fight this time or do we find out together if you can take this stuff recta- oh… hello."

Silence stretched into infinity. Sokka knew he was a bleary, streaked up mess; his eyes rimmed in red with Zuko looking much the same.

"Sir," Sokka started, trying to keep the shake from his voice, his tongue tripping over the litany of excuses. "I was just… We were-"

The sergeant waved a hand before going back to writing his notes as if some gnat was annoying him. "Private, I don't give a rat's ass what's goin' on in here, but if you can get this stubborn motherfucker to _behave_ for one _goddamned_ second and let me do my _goddamned_ job like I'm supposed to until we ship his sorry ass out of my ward, I'll fucking kiss you myself."

He finally tore himself from his clipboard and his glare could have started a forest fire. "_With_ tongue. Now, get your scrawny ass out of my way so I can get shit done."

A swirl of movement by the door caught the big man's attention. "Well, shee-_it_, this place turn into Grand Central Station or somethin'? This ain't no hide and seek. Get your ass out here, whoever you are."

The cause of his distraction sheepishly revealed herself. The girl sidled in, her head still cocked to one side as she tried to catch any scrap of information. "Sorry, Sarge! How's it hangin'?"

The sergeant sighed with his whole body. "Kid, you're usually better at sneakin' around than this. Your dad's around here somewhere and you're gonna get us all in a world of trouble if he finds you."

"I know, I know!" she shot back, hair flitting over her eyes. "Just needed to make sure these guys were all right. Can't do a thing without me-"

A new voice filtered in from behind her and it threw her into paralysis. "Goodness, what on earth is going on here?"

The room went from night to the brightness of a mid-day sun and Sokka threw up a hand to ward off the burn to his retinas. Dancing ghosts cleared to reveal a colonel – _that_ colonel- one hand still hovering over the light switch.

There was little family resemblance; the colonel a thin and wispy beanpole that would blow away in a stiff wind with his daughter built like she could take on a damned fireplug. His ridiculous mustache neutralized whatever look he was going for when the colonel drew himself imperiously straight. He shifted a stack of binders under one arm to the other to tower over his daughter with deliberation.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded without ceremony.

"Dad, I-"

He wore his lack of patience on his sleeve. "We'll talk about this later. Home. _Now_."

"Sir!" Sokka struggled to his feet, no way he could sit idly by though his wounds gave him a warning. "I asked her to help me, sir!"

Sokka took the direct hit of a colonel's ire face on and hobbled forward, desperately trying to stand at attention though he teetered on one leg in preparation for the oncoming shit storm. "I needed to see my squad mate and sir, she can handle a mean wheelchair, sir."

"Is that so, Private…" Squinting for a name tag only made the thin, spindly man turn into more of a lizard. "Amaruq?"

The name cast a magic spell on the colonel's demeanor, the ire disappearing as he ignored them to flip through the binders he'd brought with him.

"Amaruq… Amaruq…" he spoke aloud, going through each set one by one. "Ah! Here we are!"

Sweat broke out down Sokka's back at the thought of the colonel knowing his name. That storm got upgraded from a light sprinkle to a category four shit hurricane.

The colonel took up the result of his search, setting the other binders aside. He reached into his pocket to pull out a snappy, blue leather case. With much formality, he popped the case open, revealing a small bit of burnished gold and purple with a simple twist of ribbon.

"You've been awarded Purple Heart, son!"

A medal. They wanted to give Sokka a medal.

It was an honor, a token of appreciation that no one ever went out looking for. A badge of distinction to mark the time he'd gone out and very nearly hadn't come back.

Except he hadn't been alone and that was something Sokka wouldn't ever forget.

"Sir," Sokka started, sure everyone could see his pulse hammering its way out of his temple. "Before you start, could I ask you a favor?"

The smile he got in return had Sokka suddenly wishing for a shower. "Certainly, Private!"

"My squad mate and I…" His eyes locked on Zuko and Zuko watched him right back. "We earned this together. The right thing is if we receive ours together, too."

"Of course!" The colonel's reptile smile widened. He reached for his stack of binders with his eye on Zuko. "What's your name, son?"

"Private Gōjun, sir," Zuko breathed out softly.

But was no magic this time.

No magic at all.

The colonel turned on his heel, all trace of good humor gone. "I'm sorry, son. I've got nothing for you."

"What?" The angry question escaped Sokka far too quickly for him to take it back. "Sir, that can't be right! We got hurt at the same time. We came in together! If I'm getting one, he deserves it more!"

A warning full of gravel came soft enough for only Sokka to hear. "Sokka, don't-"

The plea brought Sokka back down from the stratosphere but it was already too late.

Sokka put on his best: eyes front, chin up, chest out, shoulders back, stomach in. His leg screamed in protest but he pressed ahead. "Sir! With all due respect, sir! There must some kind of a mistake-"

"There has been no mistake, _Private_," snapped the colonel, emphasis coming out as a snarl.

"From what I've been told-" the colonel began again, tightlipped and his grim face going grimmer. "Information has come to light that suggests Private Gōjun's injuries were not conclusively due to enemy action."

The room turned forty degrees colder.

What the hell was going on?

"The matter is still under investigation. Now if I may continue-" The colonel had a twitch to his jaw as he opened the binder in his hands. "All military at atten_tion_!"

"To all who shall see these presents, greeting-" the colonel rattled off, rigid in his formality. "The President of the United States of America has awarded the Purple Heart established by General George Washington at Newburgh, New York, August the 7, 1782 to Private First Class Sokka Amaruq for wounds received in action in Afghanistan."

Sokka limply took the binder, waves of nausea hitting him full force. He went through the motions. Salute. Something being pinned to his chest. Handshake and the deed was done.

"Congratulations, Private Amaruq." The colonel was terse, keeping it all business. "And as for you, young lady, you are to go home right -"

He turned on his daughter with thinly veiled fury but she refused to shrink away. "I'm not going. "

"Of course you are! This is neither the time nor place to discuss it. It's not safe here! You could… you could-"

"Sit in my little glass cage and do nothing? Act like there's nothing big and scary out in the real world?" she shot back.

The man was a hair's breadth from exploding but his daughter would not yield, pointing unerringly in Sokka's direction. "_He_ needed help. _I_ gave it to him. How is that's a bad thing?"

A cough from the burly sergeant startled everyone. "Sir, you raised a tough little kid. This ain't a pretty place but she keeps coming back for more. Soldiers could use a friendly face around who ain't here to poke and prod 'em, if you don't mind me sayin'."

That set the colonel back on his heels but his discomfiture disappeared under an illusion of composure. "We will…" he began in all gruffness but his daughter stood before him, free of fear.

There was a careful appraisal and the colonel softened from his rigid stance.

"Take the private back to his room," he finished softly. "We will discuss this later."

He retreated from the room with as much dignity as he could manage.

Some minutes passed before anyone could move and it was the girl who let out a great whoop, her smile threatening to split her face in two. "He didn't straight up kick me out! I'm gonna take that as permission to stay!"

"You're crazy, kid." The meaty sergeant laid a congratulatory hand on the girl's shoulder that weighed more than she did. "You fit in perfect 'round here."

Sokka let out a dazed laugh and sank into the refuge of his battered chair, new purple ribbon thumping against his chest. Fresh fear stole what energy he had left and Zuko met his gaze with a knot of worry building up between them.

* * *

_Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, Bethesda, MD._

A bit of a breeze was a welcome thing, even if it was from a simple stroll on the hospital grounds.

"You know," Zuko wheezed, every word a battle for breath with his sternum still in pieces. "You'd make it back… before me… if you used crutches like you're supposed to."

"No way am I using those things!" Sokka thumped along with his wooden cane, the fire coursing up his leg keeping him at the same snail's pace. "Canes are totally badass!"

The unspoken truth was that there was no point to going faster if it meant leaving Zuko behind and they were both grateful for it.

Sokka shot Zuko a devil of a smile, taking that harsh reality away. "Plus this bad boy is a hit with the ladies down in reception so the cane's here to stay."

The laugh Zuko gave in return was rough around the edges but to hear it at all made the pain worth it.

It had taken some cajoling to get green grass beneath their feet but they got their victory lap around the path that ringed the hospital. First taste of fresh air since they'd been shipped back to the States and their time here had been…. rough. Progress was slow- not just physically but mentally brutal in the hours spent scouring for anything that would tell them more after Landstuhl.

There was nothing. Investigation ongoing. Details on a need to know basis. Zuko hadn't even been interviewed and that was all kinds of fucked up.

Signs pointed to something going on and none of it looked good.

The rest of their time was consumed by evaluation board bullshit, with more than one doctor bringing up the possibility of a medical discharge. A ticket out of the army for being too broken to return but that didn't mean jack shit with a cloud over Zuko's head.

Or a target on his back.

They made their way back, creaking up the hospital entranceway like decrepit, old men. Dinosaurs still walked the earth when the hideous vomit green tile that lined the interior was last in style but this was home for now and it sure as hell beat the battlefield.

Zuko's room was always the closer of the two and they made their way to it. Only when they were behind locked doors did they get the chance to speak what was really on their minds.

"Your dad…. find out anything new?" Zuko asked, washing up in the tiny bathroom sink.

"Nada." Sokka set his cane aside, bouncing on the cramped bed as he flicked open the beat up laptop Katara had brought for him. "He said there's a lot of noise on official channels but no one's talking."

Google, google, google. Usual prowling grounds came up empty.

"You'd think stockpiles of weapons being kept in a secret bunker would be in the news but we've got jack," Sokka murmured off-hand. "An American citizen getting captured as an enemy combatant should be front page stuff but there's nothing on your sister, either."

Sokka chewed at his fingernail at hitting the same brick walls they'd hit every day. "Iroh still MIA?" he asked, the question raised from force of habit.

"Yeah." Zuko's answer was full of melancholy. "Nothing since Germany."

"Dude's got to have a good reason to go underground, right?" Sokka insisted, tabbing through page after page of useless results.

"Right?" he repeated on rote, but there was still no answer.

Water blasted from the tap but Zuko did nothing with it. Instead, he stared off into nothing, all of his weight leaning into the sink's edge.

Pain flared up but it went ignored when Sokka moved by necessity and he was at Zuko's side faster than he'd gotten anywhere in days.

"I'm sure he's fine," he whispered, peppering the other man's temple with the tenderest of kisses. "We'll find something, we just gotta keep looking-"

The jiggle of a door handle could have been imaginary in that it was soft and subtle, easily missed.

Except that it happened again.

Someone testing the lock. Not a nurse or a doctor. There was always a knock from them. Who, then?

The two men kept to their silence, the rustle of fabric clearly heard through a paper-thin door. Light slipped through from just underneath the frame to cast complex shadows.

Then there was more.

Something slid under the gap, smoothly gliding across the tile floor-

A large manila envelope that was fit to bursting was delivered and with that, the shadow vanished, setting both men in motion. Zuko tossed the cane over just as Sokka flung the door wide.

Zuko let out a hoarse bark of "Go!" and Sokka offered a curt nod, tossing the envelope to waiting hands before giving chase.

There was no sprinting here, no running, no matter how much Sokka wanted, but that runaway shadow held a clue to something big and the need to know pushed him to his limits. Looking left, there was nothing but clear hallway. Looking right-_fuck_! The flutter of long, black coattails turning a corner was the last part of their visitor Sokka could see.

He was in agony but Sokka pressed on. Piece of shit elevator was on the first floor so not that way. He hit the stairwell hard, his objective audible far below him, sprinting down the staircase with an unfamiliar tapping that sounded nothing like boots.

Sokka caught one fleeting flash of a feminine outline two stories below and he knew damn well it was who he wanted, black trench coat flaring out behind her like wings preparing to take flight.

She was too far ahead and he was all desperation. "_Hey_!"

Everybody had instincts and this person was no different. His call gave her the pause he wanted and she looked up to finally meet him eye to eye.

His first thought was of Azula but even with the huge sunglasses and broad brimmed hat masking most of her pale face, it became clear that the resemblance was purely superficial.

Where Azula had been hard and haughty, this woman was all edge and sharp angles, her outfit the pinnacle of style. The coat alone looked like it could have eaten his whole paycheck in one go with room for more. High heeled shoes looked more suited to stepping right out of some fashion magazine's photo shoot rather than taking off faster than a jack rabbit when she'd been busted pulling covert ops in a military hospital.

Sokka tried to memorize every last detail but the brief moment he'd won was over and in seconds, she was gone.

The way back was a long one and doubts plagued Sokka every step of the way. Their first break and he'd let her slip through his fingers. He limped through the doorway, disheartened.

"Lost her," was what Sokka wanted to say but he looked up and his train of thought completely derailed.

Zuko sat amidst a pile of papers, remnants of the envelope at his feet, a slow, creeping horror stealing over his face. He sifted through pages scattered around him as if he were piecing together a massive jigsaw puzzle, each scrap of information he found leaving him more apprehensive than the last.

"What?" Sokka demanded, the woman in black shifting into afterthought and Zuko showed him.

He could see there were numbers-lots of numbers with lots and lots of zeros after them with little explanation, utterly meaningless if one knew nothing of the letterhead containing a red circle with a tiny, stylized flame. "What is it?"

Zuko swallowed hard, the sheet starting to crumple as his hands slowly turned into fists. "We need to find my uncle."


End file.
